What Child Is This?
by michael t
Summary: Episode 11 of The Trick Chronicles, in which it is Christmas, Buffy is bummed, and there's a new girl in town. Who is she and why doesn't the Slayer like her very much? All this and Cordelia's in the Christmas pageant too.
1. chapter 1

Suggested listening:  
  
"You're A Mean One, Mr. Grinch" by Gary Hoey  
"Angels We Have Heard On High" by Adam Again  
"In The Bleak Mid-Winter" by Kevin Smith  
  
Author's Note: This is the original Christmas episode of 'The Trick Chronicles.' It was adapted into 'A Very Buffy Christmas,' the first fic I ever posted. As such, there will be similarities in plot and character, but 'What Child Is This' is a different work.  
  
  
What Child Is This?  
By  
Michael Walker  
  
  
"Nothing says Christmas like Perry Como blasting out of a three-inch speaker." Buffy Summers looked around at the crowds of people and imagined she was a rock holding steady in the middle of a roaring river. Plastic wreaths hung from shop doors and windows were festooned with bright lights of red, green, and blue. All of Sunnydale seemed determined to get into the Christmas spirit. All of Sunnydale except the Slayer, that is.  
  
"Look at that." Joyce Summers touched her daughter on the arm and pointed. "That window is so adorable."  
  
Buffy did her best to conceal a wince. The window her mom loved was some sort of gruesome "Santa's Workshop" theme executed with various kinds of candles. "Yeah, mom. It's a real stitch. And I mean that literally."  
  
"Well, aren't we quite the Grinch." Joyce's tone was light and teasing.  
  
Buffy's was not. "I gotta be me."  
  
"Could you try being someone else?" Joyce asked. "Someone who doesn't hate Christmas."  
  
Buffy looked straight at her mom, holding eye contact. Very slowly, she said, "Ho, ho, ho."  
  
Joyce shook her head. "I give up. You really are Scrooge."  
  
"Bah, humbug," Buffy said. Her mom squinted at her in irritation. Buffy pasted a big, insincere smile on her face.  
  
Joyce Summers sighed and put her arm around her daughter. "Honey, I know that Christmas has never been your favorite holiday, and I realize that these last few weeks have been really awful, but you can't wallow in it forever."  
  
"Oh, I think I can wallow for much longer than you'd think." Buffy looked past her mom. "Hey, look." Joyce turned to see Oz and Xander approaching through the milling throng.  
  
"Hey. Mrs. Summers, hello." Oz stuck his hands in his pockets.  
  
Joyce smiled. "Hello, Oz. Xander."  
  
"Hi." Xander turned to the Slayer. "Hey, Buffy, what's up?"  
  
She shrugged. "Christmas shopping. What about you guys?"  
  
Xander reciprocated the shrug. "Just out watching the people." He wore a shapeless dark sweater with a bright yellow horizontal stripe across the chest and baggy khaki cargo pants.  
  
Buffy took an exaggerated look around. "I don't see either of your significant others."  
  
Oz said, "Willow had to study."  
  
"Yeah," Xander chimed in. "And Christmas's not really Will's big cuppa joe."  
  
"Oooh, that's right. I need to pick up a Hanukkah gift for her." Buffy made a mental note. "What about Cordelia?"  
  
"No need. Cordelia's a gentile." Xander smirked.  
  
Buffy gave Xander a 'cheap shot' face. "No, seriously, where is she?"  
  
Xander looked like a ten-year-old with a secret. "Hold on to your pointy elf shoes. Cordy is rehearsing for the Christmas pageant."  
  
"Really? What part does she have?"  
  
Xander grinned. "Well, here's where the irony gets pretty thick. She's an angel."  
  
Buffy's jaw dropped. "An angel?"  
  
Oz lifted one eyebrow. "Part of the heavenly host."  
  
Buffy shuddered. "That's fairly creepsome."  
  
Joyce tapped her daughter on the shoulder. "Buffy, there are some stores I want to look at down this way. Do you want to stay with Xander and Oz?"  
  
Buffy rewarded her mother with a look of sincere gratitude. "Thank you, mom."  
  
"So I should meet you at the coffee shop in, what, half an hour?" Joyce glanced at her watch.  
  
Buffy nodded. "Yeah, that should be fine."  
  
"All right then." Joyce started to walk away. "I'll see you all later. Have fun."  
  
"So," Xander said as the throng bore her away, "are we not exactly brimming with Christmas cheer?"  
  
Buffy gave her mom one final wave. "Hey, what can I say? It's been a crappy holiday season."   
  
"Well, then," Oz said, "you up for a cup of coffee?"  
  
"Oh yes," Buffy replied. "Many cups of coffee." They headed toward the Espresso Pump. "Truth time," Buffy said to Xander. "You avoiding the family?"  
  
Xander picked up the pace. "You know it."  
  
***  
  
One of Liz Blankenship's packages slipped and almost fell. A quick, rude vulgarity hissed out of her mouth. She almost wished the damn things would fall; almost falling was somehow more frustrating.  
  
Sunnydale paid a price for its quaint downtown, and that price was lousy parking. All the lots were a few blocks off Main, a few blocks that seemed like a few miles to a weary shopper who had spent too much and stayed too late. It was already dark and she still had to make dinner when she got home. Thinking about dinner made her walk faster, and that's when the package finally fell. Liz stopped, trying to figure out a way to re-organize her burden.  
  
"Could I lend a hand?"  
  
Liz jumped at the sound of the voice. She spun. The speaker stood at the edge of the cone of light shed by a street lamp. He was a black man dressed in a long dark topcoat.  
  
"Could you use some help?" he asked.  
  
She shook her head. "No, I'll be fine."  
  
He nodded. "I'm sorry I've made you uncomfortable. I'll go. I should know better. Too many wackos around to trust anyone. Even at Christmas." He turned to go  
  
"Wait." Liz held out a hand. He stopped. "I'm the one who's sorry," she said. "It's late, and I'm in a hurry." He looked so nice, and besides, his coat looked like it cost more than all the presents she'd bought. What could he want from her? "I guess what I'm trying to say is, yes, I'd really appreciate some help."  
  
"Then allow me." He stepped forward and picked up two bags.  
  
***  
  
The Espresso Pump was bustling; in fact, it overflowed with bustle. It was hot and loud and Buffy thought that the lights had been cranked up a few watts to make it brighter. They stood in line and ordered-a latte for Buffy, cinnamon roll and large Kona Gold for Xander and apple strudel-"not because it's any better than the other pastries; it's just more fun to say-struuuuuuudellllll"-and coffee for Oz.  
  
"This seemed like a much better idea outside," Xander said, surveying the roiling crowd. "If all of Rome was at the baths, then all of Sunnydale must need a latte."  
  
"Yeah, nothing like watching a desperate horde of crazed shoppers trying to repair a year of dysfunction by finding the perfect pair of tube socks." Oz scanned the crowd while balancing his cup.  
  
Buffy looked around the room again. "There." She nudged Xander with an elbow and headed off toward a fleeting glimpse of white Formica. She was the Slayer; no one was going to beat her to a table.  
  
Except the table was already occupied. A girl sat there, a tall, thin girl with long, dark hair and hazel eyes. She wore a voluminous trench coat over a ratty rollneck sweater and faded jeans.  
  
"Sorry," Oz said. "We couldn't see you. We thought the table was empty."  
  
The girl responded by placing one battered Nike on an empty chair and sliding it away from the table. "Sit down," she said. "This place is so crowded you couldn't stir it with a stick. Why should three empty seats be wasted?"  
  
"Why indeed." Xander slid into the proffered chair. "I'm Xander."  
  
The girl extended a long, strangely elegant hand. "Josie."  
  
"Pleased to meet you." Xander continued the introductions. "This is Oz." Oz acknowledged his name with a nod of the head. "And Buffy."  
  
The Slayer started to tip her cup in the other girl's direction but when she met the gaze of those ice-blue eyes a chill whip cracked along her spine.  
  
"You eating?" Xander asked around a mouthful of cinnamon roll.  
  
"No," Josie said. "I'm really just sitting here."  
  
"Waiting for someone?" Buffy asked.  
  
"No one in particular."  
  
Xander swallowed. "I haven't seen you around school, have I?"  
  
Josie shook her head. "I'm new in town."  
  
***  
  
Liz could see her car, sitting all alone in the corner of the lot. Her benefactor trudged along beside her, carrying the bags in silence. As they drew near the car, Liz began to fumble for her keys.  
  
As they reached the vehicle, the good Samaritan asked, "Is it all right if I set these down here?" He indicated the spot with a nod of his head.  
  
"Yes, and thank you. Do I owe you anything?" Liz started to reach into her purse, but he stopped her with a raised hand.  
  
"Not a cent," he said.  
  
"Then... thank you. Thank you so much." She turned, keys in hand to unlock the trunk. As the lid swung up, she realized that she didn't hear any receding footsteps. She turned back.  
  
He was still there, only he was different. Yellow eyes glimmered, and streetlights reflected off long, spit-covered fangs. She opened her mouth to scream, but he was on her before the air could escape, bearing her down to the pavement, fangs fastened in her pulsing carotid artery.  
  
When he was finished feeding, the vampire hoisted her pale body and dumped it into the open trunk. He took a handkerchief from his pocket, wiped his mouth and hands, and let it fall. The linen square fluttered down, floating over Liz Blankenship's face and covering her shocked, staring eyes as the trunk lid slammed closed.  
  
Mr. Trick walked away, whistling a little tune: "Christmas Time Is Here."  
  
***  
  
"So," Xander said, "what brings you to our fair city?"  
  
Josie shrugged. "Just passing through."  
  
Buffy took a sip of espresso and listened to Xander chat up Josie.  
  
"So," he was saying, "do you go to UC-Sunnydale? Crestwood?"  
  
She looked down at the table, a small smile on her face. "No. I'm just passing through."  
  
"Ah, a woman of mystery." Xander was intrigued. "Passing through to where?"  
  
"Wherever I go next."  
  
"Okay." Xander grinned. "Second try. Passing through from where?"  
  
"From the place I was last."  
  
Xander hunched forward, elbows on the table, and tried his best Christopher Lee accent. "So you're telling me that you just happened to be roaming the countryside, and fate has placed you here, in this place, at this moment in time? Well, I don't buy it, young lady, I don't buy it at all."  
  
Josie's face twitched, then she burst out in a laugh. "I'm so sorry," she gasped, "but that's the worst British accent I've ever heard."  
  
"It is? Well, that's because it was a... a French accent."  
  
"That would be even worse."  
  
Xander looked abashed. "Belgian?"  
  
Oz sipped his coffee. "Quit while you're ahead."  
  
Josie's laughter calmed and she looked down at the table then her head flipped up, locking eyes with Buffy.  
  
'It's almost like she's reading my mind,' the Slayer thought. "S-so, where do you live?" Buffy stammered. 'Get a grip,' she commanded herself.  
  
"You know," Josie said, "you guys are showing an awful lot of interest in someone who just happens to be sharing a table with you."  
  
"Well," Xander said, "that's because we're people people... uh, people, uh, persons. I mean--"  
  
Oz interrupted. "What Should-Be-Silent Bob here is trying to say is that we're sorry if we're prying."  
  
"Actually, that's not--" Xander shut up when he saw the look Buffy shot his way. Josie got up from the table.  
  
"Listen, it's been really nice talking to you guys, but I gots to go." She was still for a moment, and Buffy was struck by just how very pretty she was. "Maybe I'll see you around."  
  
"You need a ride?" Oz asked.  
  
Josie shook her head. "I'm good, but thanks for offering."  
  
"Be careful." Buffy was very serious. "Sunnydale's not the safest place after dark."  
  
Josie's laugh held very little mirth. "If I've learned one thing, it's that no place is safe after dark." Buffy watched her move through the crowd, slipping between patrons almost as though they moved aside for her. She walked out the door, and stood in the pool of radiance from a street light while she gathered her coat around her. Buffy frowned, staring through the window. Something was-  
  
Joyce walked in front of the window and when she passed, Josie was gone. The Slayer's mother stopped just inside the door, looking for her daughter. Buffy waved a hand until Joyce spotted her.  
  
"Well," she said as she drew near, "this looks like a happy table."  
  
Oz rapped the Formica with his knuckles. "Seems cheerful enough."  
  
"Okay," Joyce said. "That joke was old when I was a kid." She turned to the Slayer. "Are you ready to go?"  
  
Buffy pushed up from the table. "I was ready to go when I got here."  
  
Xander crumpled his empty cup. "That means it's time to meet Cordelia. Give me a ride?" he said to Oz. Oz said nothing, just got up, took the keys to the van from his pocket and jingled them. The two of them wended their way through the crowd.  
  
"Have a nice time?" Joyce asked.  
  
"What? Oh, yeah." Buffy stared at the window. "Mom, did you see a girl outside when you came in?"  
  
"Yes," Joyce said. "About a thousand of them, I think. Why?"  
  
Buffy shook her head, still looking at the window. "Oh, nothing."  
  
***  
  
A chilly breeze gusted across the parking lot, whipping Cordelia Chase's hair around her face and causing her to tighten the belt on her coat. Half a dozen cars were scattered around the asphalt. She stood in front of the old, arched wooden doors, a remaining vestige of the early 20th century building that had been torn down to make way for the more modern incarnation of Sunnydale Presbyterian Church.   
  
Oz's van pulled into the parking lot and Xander got out. He schlepped across the parking lot, his hands jammed deep into the pockets of his barn jacket. He whistled a tune as he walked: "Christmas Time Is Here." He could see Cordelia's slender figure standing on the concrete terrace outside the main doors. Those doors gave him the creeps. They were so big and old and dark. Those doors seemed to be alive sometimes. He jogged up the two steps, happy to see her smile. He leaned in and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, then pulled back and frowned.  
  
"You realize you have a little schmutz there?" he said, pointing to her cheek.  
  
Cordelia rolled her eyes as she hefted her purse. "It's glitter. It's part of the costume."  
  
Xander scratched his head as he followed her down the steps. "Is this the Christmas pageant or 'The Last Days of Disco?'"  
  
Cordelia spoke over her shoulder. "Ha, ha. For your information, it looks very cool under the lights."  
  
"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that? Been waiting long?"  
  
Cordelia shook her head as they reached the Sebring. "Nope. Just got done."  
  
***  
  
"There." Rupert Giles stepped back and surveyed his Christmas tree. It was, in his sight, absolutely perfect, all dark green needles and white lights with glinting ornaments. Pachelbel's 'Canon in D' played softly on the stereo. The kettle was beginning to whistle. All was right with the world, or at least it seemed so. Yet Giles felt an uneasiness, a sense of something afoot.  
  
The kettle screamed. Giles roused himself and went into the kitchen, where the ritual of making tea provided a welcome relief from pondering his misgivings. Everything in order, he carried his cup of Earl Grey into the living room and placed it on the coffee table. He sat for a few moments and looked at his tree as he sipped his tea, then placed the cup back in the saucer and picked up the book from the table. He opened it and began to read from the beginning.  
  
***  
  
The same brisk wind that had caught Cordelia whisked down Catalpa Street. It caught the hem of Josie's dingy trench coat and swirled it around her as she trekked along the sidewalk. The holiday crowds were thinner here, mostly just intermittent clumps of people. She passed a crowded bus stop. One of those waiting raised his head, sniffing the air, then turned and caught a glimpse of her slender back as it disappeared.  
  
"How now, brown Swiss," Trick said. "What have we here?" He arose from the bench without conscious thought and began to follow her.  
  
***  
  
Xander twisted his head down toward the dashboard, trying to get a better look at how the green instrument lights reflected on Cordelia's face.  
  
"Will you stop staring at me?" she snapped.  
  
"But it's just so freaky," he said. He dodged a half-hearted attempt to cuff him on the head then settled back into his seat. He glanced idly out of the window. "Hey, I know that girl," he said, sitting up straight. His eyes widened. "Turn around! Turn around!"  
  
Cordelia glanced at him, annoyed. "What's wrong with you, spaz-boy?"  
  
Xander pointed out the window. "It's Trick. He's following that girl. Turn around."  
  
Cordelia stared out the windshield. "Hang on." The squeal of protesting tires and laboring brakes filled the air. The Sebring swung around in the middle of the street and came to a stop, rocking slightly. Xander looked at Cordelia from his new position, sprawled against the passenger door with his feet on the console.  
  
"So," he said, "Still watching 'Speed Week'?"  
  
"Yeah," Cordelia said and floored the accelerator. The Sebring surged forward, tires smoking. As they passed Josie, Cordy slued the wheel left, running the front tires up over the curb and onto the sidewalk.  
  
Xander jumped out of the vehicle. Josie looked a little spooked, but then having a car jump the curb in front of you could explain that.  
  
"Hey, remember me?" Xander looked over her shoulder, searching for Trick. The vamp was nowhere to be seen, but he had to be close by.  
  
"Yeah." Josie had moved from spooked to puzzled. "You're the guy from the coffee shop."  
  
"Hey, quite a memory you've got there. Steel trap." Xander could feel himself babbling, but couldn't stop. "Why don't you let us give you a ride home?"  
  
"Thanks." Josie spoke slowly, as though addressing an infant, or a mental patient. "But I'll be fine."  
  
"Yeah, I'm sure you will, but I have to help someone to get my Boy Scout Good Samaritan merit badge. Whattya say?" He spread his hands.  
  
"I said I'll be fine. It's a nice night."  
  
The driver's door slammed open and a dark-haired girl popped out. "Will you just get in the damn car!" she yelled at Josie.  
  
"Okay," Josie said, climbing into the back seat while Xander checked the street. He seemed very nervous as he climbed in and slammed the door. She leaned forward between the front seats. "Boy, I had no idea you guys took hospitality so seriously."  
  
  
As the car's taillights faded, Mr. Trick stepped out from behind the hedge where he'd taken cover. "I'll get you, my pretty," he said. "And your little dog too." 


	2. chapter 2

"And you're sure he was following her?" Buffy squinted in the bright winter sunshine.  
  
Xander tossed a pebble away. "Speaking as someone who's something of an expert in following women at a distance, oh yeah."  
  
Buffy shaded her eyes with her hand. "So what did you do then?"  
  
Xander shrugged. "We offered to take her home but guess what? She's homeless." He shook his head. "Can you imagine that? In high school with no place to live?"  
  
"Seems very real to me." Buffy's voice was somber.  
  
"Yikes. Sorry."  
  
Buffy shrugged. "No big. What did you do with her?"  
  
"Cordelia graciously offered to let her spend the night at her house?"  
  
Buffy arched an eyebrow. "Cordelia graciously offered?"  
  
Xander looked up at the trees. "Maybe I offered for her. Point is, she spent the night in a place Trick can't enter."  
  
Buffy nodded, then rocked back, letting her heels come off the ground. "Did it ever occur to you that she might be working for Trick? It's the sort of thing he would do." The look on Xander's face made in abundantly clear that this possibility had not crossed his mind. As he groped for an answer his gaze flicked past Buffy's shoulder. A look of relief crossed his face and he nudged the Slayer.  
  
"I don't think that's a problem," he said, using his head to point over her shoulder. Buffy turned.  
  
Josie and Cordelia crossed the lawn, cutting across the general flow of the student body. Josie wore the trench coat and sneakers from the night before, but a faded navy-blue T-shirt had replaced the rollneck sweater. The old jeans she wore were rolled up a couple of turns. Xander and Buffy stood up as they approached.  
  
"Hey," Xander said, "how are you guys this morning?" He grinned at Josie. "Snappy new threads."  
  
Josie tossed her head. "Cordelia let me borrow a few things."  
  
Xander made a mock-impressed face. "And she broke out the really nice duds, too." Cordelia's look clearly said 'Don't go there.'  
  
"It's okay," Josie said. "They're just a little big is all."  
  
Cordelia's eyes blazed. "And what's that supposed to mean?"  
  
Josie's eyes widened. "I meant... you're taller... long. They're a little long is what I meant." Cordelia glared at her for a beat, then banked the fire.  
  
Xander took his girlfriend by the hand. "We'd love to chat some more, but we gotta go. See you later."  
  
"Much later," Cordelia called out with much false good cheer as they walked away, leaving Buffy and Josie alone. The Slayer shuffled her feet. Josie stuck her hands in her pockets and looked around.  
  
"So, uh," Buffy said, "I've gotta be going. Classes and all that stuff, you know."  
  
Josie nodded. "Yeah, sure. I understand. Go ahead."  
  
"You'll be okay?"  
  
Josie pointed toward the building. "I have classes of my own to go to."  
  
"Okay then." Buffy walked away, fighting the urge to look over her shoulder.  
  
***  
  
Rupert Giles chuckled.  
  
"You seem to be in a good mood," Willow said as she entered the library.  
  
"Oh, hello." Giles turned his attention back to the catalogue. "I'm just doing some Christmas shopping."  
  
"Really?" Willow frowned. "You never seemed like the Christmas type."  
  
"The day that's now observed as Christmas has been a festival day observed by various religions for thousands of years." Giles didn't even look up from the catalogue.  
  
"Mmmmmm-hmmmmm." Willow decided to let it drop. "Who are you shopping for?"  
  
"Buffy. And I believe I've found the perfect gift." He turned the catalogue toward Willow. "Have a look."  
  
Willow looked at the catalogue, cocked her head to the side and looked again. She flipped the volume shut to look at the front cover. "Giles, what's a Bass Pro Shop?"  
  
"It's a sporting goods store in... well, somewhere in the Midwest. It's enormous, and when I saw this, I knew it was perfect for Buffy. What do you think?"  
  
Willow read from the copy. "Advanced polymer resin frame. Re-engineered ergonomic design. Compound recurved mechanism." She looked up. "Well, it's very nice Giles, but are you sure a crossbow is the perfect Christmas gift?"  
  
"You don't like it?" Giles was nonplussed.  
  
Willow shrugged. "I understand how you think this is a great gift, and I'm sure it would be very nice, but I think maybe Buffy would like something a little more... girly?"  
  
Giles practically sputtered. "B-But look at it! Compared to Buffy's old crossbow, it's... it's a work of art!"  
  
Willow looked doubtful but looked again. The door clicked open and Oz entered. He waved to Giles and peeked over Willow's shoulder.  
  
"Nice crossbow," he said.  
  
"I'm thinking of getting it for Buffy for Christmas," Giles said, only a slight sulk in his voice.  
  
Oz nodded. "Outstanding." Still looking at the catalogue he asked Willow, "Ready for lunch?"  
  
Willow sighed. "Obviously this is some sort of guy thing." She hefted her books. "Giles, just promise me you'll think about what I said." She took Oz by the hand as they left.  
  
Giles looked down at the catalogue. "But I still think it's a wonderful gift."  
  
***  
  
Xander looked up as Willow and Oz approached hand in hand. He turned to Buffy and Cordelia. "It's Oz and Willow. Or maybe we should try that as one big name, you know, Ozwillow."  
  
Willow made a sarcastic face. "Keep trying Xander. One day you'll make a funny."  
  
Xander clutched an imaginary wound in his chest. "Ouch."  
  
Oz nodded toward the other side of the cafeteria. Josie sat alone at a table with a glass of water in front of her. Oz stood up. "I'm gonna ask her if she'd like to sit with us." He ambled away, weaving between the tables.  
  
"Who's that?" Willow asked.  
  
"What?" Cordelia said. "You mean you haven't met the unbelievable Josie?"  
  
Xander looked annoyed. "Hey Cordy, sheath the claws. We're all friends here."  
  
Buffy muttered, "You would say that."  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
Buffy shrugged as she dipped a french fry in ketchup. "Nothing. I was just observing. I've observant girl."  
  
Willow looked over at the table where Oz leaned down, his head close to Josie's. "They certainly seem to be having a conversation." They watched Oz grin. Willow tugged at a lock of hair. "I don't like her."  
  
"You don't even know her," Buffy pointed out.  
  
Willow turned to the Slayer. "Do you like her?"  
  
"We're not talking about me."  
  
Cordelia chimed in. "I don't like her either."  
  
"Not a lot of love at this table, no sir." Xander folded his arms in disgust. Before any of the girls could reply, Oz was heading back toward the table, Josie in tow. There was much scuffling and shuffling of chairs as they created a space for her.  
  
"Wow," Josie said. "They sure didn't plan for six people to sit at these tables, did they?"  
  
"No. Probably a good idea." Cordelia's tone was formidably off-hand.  
  
Josie ignored her and addressed the others. "Thanks for asking me to sit with you." She extended a hand. "You must be Willow. I'm Josie."  
  
"Hi." Willow shook hands briefly.  
  
"So," Cordelia said, "how come you don't have a place to live?" She looked around at the horrified reactions of the others. "Oh please. Like you weren't dying to know."  
  
"Come on," Josie said. "She's right. You're all wondering." A succession of slow nods and muttered assents greeted her statement. "Okay. The reason I'm homeless is..." Josie hesitated. The Scoobies leaned forward. "...because I don't have a place to live."  
  
There was a beat of silence, then the collective breath was loosed and they all began talking at once. "Cordelia," said Buffy.   
  
"I can't believe she said that," Willow said to Buffy, then leaned across to say to Cordelia, "I can't believe you said that."  
  
Cordelia said, "I don't get it."  
  
Xander patted her on the shoulder. "Never mind."  
  
Willow looked puzzled. "But what about your parents?"  
  
Josie shrugged. "Let's just say that they're... not present, okay?"  
  
"So shouldn't you be in, like, an orphanage or something?" Cordelia said.  
  
Xander slumped in his chair, muttering, "Torpedo number two!"  
  
Josie shook her head. "The state social services system is not a friendly place when you're sixteen."  
  
"So, where do you stay?" Willow asked.  
  
Josie pursed her lips. "I, uh, I just sleep, you know, around."  
  
Xander nodded. "So you have that in common with a lot of girls in Sunnydale. Ow!" He reached down to rub his ankle.  
  
Cordelia gave him a sweet smile. "That one I got."  
  
Oz said, "You shouldn't do that. Sunnydale isn't the nicest place after dark."  
  
Josie shrugged. "No place is, but unless you've got a better idea, I'll just have to take my chances."  
  
Oz said, "You could stay at my house." They all turned to stare at him. "Not my house house. I meant, the attic in our garage is finished. You'd have to move some stuff around but it's dry, and maybe we could find you a sleeping bag."  
  
Josie turned to Willow. "Is that cool with you?"  
  
Willow stammered. "Well, yes, I mean, I don't think anything bad would go on. Not that I was thinking that something bad would go on, or that you're the sort of person who would try anything bad, you know, or that Oz would, so, yes, I guess it's okay with me."  
  
Josie turned to Oz. "Then thank you."  
  
He nodded once. "See me after school."  
  
Cordelia leaned over and whispered to Willow. "You are so going to regret this." Willow nodded. The miserable expression on her face said 'I already know that.'  
  
***  
  
To call the attic over the Osbourne garage 'Spartan' would be an insult to Greek city-states everywhere. Boxes were against the walls, the floor was bare plywood and a naked 60-watt bulb provided illumination. Oz pushed a few boxes out of the way as Josie unrolled the sleeping bag. He straightened up and looked around.  
  
"You know, now that we're actually up here, this place looks like crap," he said. "Maybe you'd rather stay somewhere else?"  
  
"Nah." She shook her head. "This is warm and quiet, two qualities I value highly in lodgings." She shrugged. "Actually, it is a lot nicer than some places I've stayed. Thanks."  
  
"No big." Oz went to the trap door leading down to the garage. "It's almost time for dinner. You have any special dietary needs?"  
  
Josie laughed. "Whatever you and your family are having will be fine."  
  
Oz nodded. "Ravioli-Os it is, then." He made his way down the ladder. As the trap door closed behind him Josie wriggled through a gap between a couple of boxes and looked out the small octagonal window. Across the street, underneath the street lamp, a single tall, gaunt figure stood, looking up at the window. Josie shook her head and turned away from the window. She sat down on the sleeping bag and waited for dinner.  
  
***  
  
Buffy hitched up the strap on her Slayer bag. It was crazy out tonight. She'd already staked three, and number four was just ahead. She reached under her jacket and brought out a stake as she dropped the bag. The hulking figure of the vampire stood in the middle of the park's playground equipment. Buffy sidestepped toward him, using great caution, until she realized that he was unaware of her presence. He kept looking from side to side, then shaking his head like he was trying to dislodge something from his ear.  
  
"Screw the stalker approach," she murmured, and rushed him. She was within three strides of the bloodsucker when he noticed her, but by then it was too late. She hit him like Cordelia hitting a Lancome sale, coming in low and hard and flipping him over her back. Buffy rolled to her feet, ready to fight. The vamp struggled up and lunged at her. She ducked, avoiding him with ease, but he spun, displaying unexpected agility, and jumped at her again. She stepped back. He landed at her feet. One hand grabbed an ankle and pulled. She landed on her back with a thud. The vamp reared over her, growling and shaking his head. As he fell on her, Buffy raised the stake, point up. The demon could see his own death coming; he just couldn't do anything about it. "Yeah," she said as he impaled himself on the stake. "It sucks to be you." The vamp exploded.  
  
"Bleghh." Buffy rolled over and pushed herself up on all fours, spitting out gray ash. As she got to her feet, she wondered why the vamp had acted so strangely. Great, she thought. What does it mean when the vampires start acting weird?  
  
Buffy surveyed the remains of one of her favorite stakes and shook her head, overcome with the sad realization that it was finished. Stakes were like shoes; theoretically they all did the same thing, but some just felt better. This one had been a nice length of white oak, smooth and straight with just the right heft and balance. It had shattered upon striking the sternum of a vampire. One of the splinters had penetrated the demon's heart, so even as it expired the stake had done its job.  
  
"Come on, get a life," the Slayer muttered to herself. "It's a piece of wood." She tossed the cracked pieces into a trashcan and dug through her bag for another. Maybe the stake was a metaphor for life coming apart. It didn't take much of a stretch to make it work. Take her life for example. Not long ago her existence had seemed to be on a relatively even keel. Now... Faith was bitter, hostile and violent... on a good day. Buffy hadn't seen much of the dark Slayer since Lindsay's death. She'd basically stopped coming to school. Buffy's attempts to talk to her had not been encouraging. Then there was Angel. Another fine mess. That situation had been complicated and painful enough, and that was before she'd gone to his mansion after Lindsay's death and ended up kissing him. No, Mr. Pointy didn't have it so bad.  
  
The Slayer had kept moving during her interior monologue and now she was pulled back to reality by a commotion up ahead. A few trees screened her from a clear view, but she was pretty sure it wasn't a Living Nativity.  
  
***  
  
The last vampire tried to run, but she caught it by the collar and yanked it back. She pivoted, pinwheeling the creature around and running it headfirst into the wall of the park's restroom. The demon bounced off the wall; she spun it around and slammed it against the wall. The vampire struggled feebly, but all the fight had already been taken out of it. It was marked with half-a-dozen wounds and one elbow bent the wrong way. The stake poised in her hand was beginning to look like a pleasant alternative.  
  
"I'd tell you to take a message to your slimy boss," Faith snarled, her left hand around the demon's throat. "If you were going to see him this side of hell." The stake thrust upward followed by a soft pop and a gentle sigh. Faith stood in the middle of the carnage she had wrought-five swiftly dissipating piles of ash. She jammed the stake into the back pocket of her jeans. She was hungry.  
  
***  
  
Buffy sprinted toward the melee and with each step she felt the confusion and misery lessen. She had a target and a purpose. Sometimes it was so simple and straightforward. Violence was her gift, her trade, her release, even. She might not know everything that was going on, but she knew what to do next, and how to do it.  
  
Four vampires surrounded one man, who was putting up a pretty decent fight. Still thirty yards away, Buffy dropped to one knee. Her crossbow swung to her shoulder. She sighted and squeezed the trigger. With a twang and a buzz the quarrel flew straight to its target. It struck the closest vampire in the back, boring through the heart and flying out the other side.  
  
Only the vampire didn't go down. It turned, spotted her, and began to lumber toward her at an alarming speed. Buffy's mind raced-pierced heart, no dust, therefore not a vampire but some other form of demon. Then it was on her, throwing a hard right hand punch. Buffy ducked, grabbing the front of a shirt and a belt. She pushed up, using her legs as she came out of the crouch. She felt scaly skin slide across her hands. The demon vaulted overhead, a dull thud marking the spot where it slammed into the earth. She scrambled for the Slayer bag. Her fingers closed around the handle as her assailant grabbed her by the ankle. She rolled onto her back, kicking at the thing's face as her fingers closed around the hilt of a knife. A brawny arm swung at her head as she rolled to one side. The fist/paw/claw at the end of the arm buried itself in the turf. She slashed at the forearm with the knife. The fiend howled as the blade sliced through its hide. The knife itself wasn't that impressive-a plain, slightly curved blade with a chisel point. Buffy had seen dozens of knives more ornate, but none of those knives had a channel of pure silver running the length of the blade. Buffy clambered to her feet. The demon snarled, holding its wounded arm, then leaped toward her. The Slayer stepped forward, inside the thing's reach and buried the silver blade in its vital organs (whatever they were). It roared, spewing smoke and a vile liquid from its mouth. Buffy guessed the liquid was its blood, or what passed for blood. Very stinky blood.  
  
She heard a heavy tread on the grass behind her and she wheeled, sweeping the knife through in a great backhand arc. The new demon tried to put on the brakes, and it did avoid decapitation, but the knife scored a deep line across its shoulders and upper chest. The creature clutched its wounds, but its shriek was unheard as Buffy stabbed it through the throat.  
  
She wrenched the blade free and turned to see the remaining two attackers circling their intended victim. Whoever he was, the guy was good. He side-kicked one of the demons in the gut and spun the other into a full nelson. The kicked demon staggered and tripped over its own feet. Buffy scooped up the Slayer bag and dashed toward the brouhaha. She caught the demon trying to rise and cut its throat with one slash. As she watched it die she heard a dull snap. Turning, she saw the last demon drop, its neck broken. She shifted her gaze to the man. She saw his face in the dim moonlight.  
  
"Angel?" she said.  
  
"Hey," he said. Buffy stared at him for a split-second, then swung the bag backhanded, smacking into his mid-section. She was very pleased with the loud "oof" this produced.  
  
"Hey," Angel hissed. "It's me!"  
  
"I know," she said. "That's why I hit you so hard."  
  
"Huh?" He straightened up.  
  
"What are you doing here? Were you following me?"  
  
Angel held up a hand. "I'm not here because of you."  
  
"Oh, really?" Buffy's body language screamed out "liar".  
  
"Really." Angel nodded. "Something strange is happening."  
  
"I say once again, 'Oh, really?'"  
  
Angel fixed her with that stare. "Now may not be the best time to be sarcastic. The level of supernatural activity around here scares even me."  
  
Buffy glared at him. He stared back. Neither of them spoke. Finally she shook her head. "You're right. It's been vamps a-poppin' tonight. What gives?"  
  
***  
  
Faith watched the guy turn and make another pass in front of the bus station. A burly dude in a leather jacket stopped, made conversation for a few seconds, then shook hands. Bus station guy resumed his funny little quick-walk; leather jacket dude slipped his hand into his pocket. Faith had watched a dozen similar transactions go down. She was getting sleepy and her muscles were getting sore as they cooled down; tonight had been one for the record books. Every vampire in Sunnydale must have gotten a B-12 shot. It was time to do this and then crash.  
  
She pushed away from the rough brick wall and sauntered across the street. The guy spotted her coming and automatically glanced over her shoulder, checking to make sure she was alone. As she drew closer to him Faith could make out more details. He sported one of the poorest excuses for a goatee imaginable and his nose had been broken at least twice. He leered as she approached, exposing small, irregularly spaced gray teeth.  
  
"Anything I can do for you?" he asked in a voice that would have been vastly improved by the addition of a hacking cough.  
  
"Maybe," Faith said, looking around. "Can you hook me up?"  
  
"Can I," he said. "What do you need?"  
  
"Whattaya got?" Faith ran a hand through her hair.  
  
"I got whatever you need," he said. "Depends on what you wanna pay."  
  
"See, here's the thing." Faith stuck her hands in the pockets of her jeans and gave it a little squirm. "I don't really have any money--"  
  
"Hey, sorry," he said, stepping back. "I run a strictly cash business."  
  
"I said I don't have any money," Faith said. "Didn't say I wouldn't pay."  
  
That caused a spark to flare in his eyes. "And what, ah, currency did you have in mind?"  
  
Faith shrugged, managing to wiggle her hips as she did so. "See anything you might like?"  
  
His eyes crawled over her, from the tight hip-hugger jeans, past her bare midriff to the black tank top. He wiped his mouth with a grubby hand. "I, uh, we might could work something out. How's about we step into the alley over there and, uh, negotiate."  
  
Faith smiled. "Cool." She followed him into the inky blackness of the alley's mouth. There was a smack, a thump, and a groan; then Faith walked out of the alley. She stuffed a wad of bills into her pocket as she blew on the knuckles of her right hand.  
  
"Sorry about the nose," she muttered. "Maybe third time's the charm." 


	3. chapter 3

Oz pumped the accelerator twice then turned the key. The van's engine turned over, caught, sputtered, then roared to life. The passenger door opened and Josie climbed in. She said, "In case I haven't said it enough, thanks again for all you've done."  
  
"It's not a big deal. You're sleeping over the garage." Oz put the transmission in reverse and backed down the driveway.  
  
Josie glanced out the passenger window. "So how do you and Willow handle the Christmas thing?"  
  
"Excuse me?" Oz shot her a quick glance.  
  
"Well, you know, Willow being Jewish and you having such a Christmas jones."  
  
Oz shook his head as he turned the wheel to the right. "Still in the dark here."  
  
"Come on." Josie turned toward him. "On the road you get pretty good at sizing people up real fast. I was in your house last night. Admit it, you love Christmas."  
  
Oz shrugged defensively. "Well, yeah. It's pretty cool if you look at it for what it is."  
  
"How so?"  
  
Oz took one hand off the wheel to gesture. "Think about the story. Unmarried girl turns up pregnant and what's her explanation? 'I didn't do anything wrong; it's God's baby.' I mean, do you think anybody believed her?" Josie shrugged. Oz plowed on, warming to his topic. "Come on, you know they didn't. What they did was talk about her behind her back and call her a whore. You know they did."  
  
Josie looked a little concerned for Oz's sanity. "Interesting take. You've thought about this."  
  
He wasn't finished. "Then they go to this other town where she has the baby in a barn, then they have to leave the country because the government decides to kill all the babies to get this one. I just think that's one wild story."  
  
"Do you think it's true?"  
  
He shrugged, his eyes on the street. "Who knows? Weirder stuff is true."  
  
"Such as?"  
  
Oz realized that he was on the verge of saying too much. This was probably not the moment to reveal his lupine nature. "You know. That plant that blooms every hundred years. Pizza with cheese in the crust. The Backstreet Boys. You know. Stuff."  
  
Josie said, "Stuff. Yeah, that stuff can get you. Still, you're right. It's like on that old game show, you know, Hollywood Squares? They'd ask a question like 'What percentage of Americans are afraid someone has spit in their Coke' and then you could choose, like, thirteen percent, twenty-one percent, or sixty-eight percent. You never went wrong choosing the weirdest number."  
  
"Yeah," was all Oz said.  
  
"And then you start thinking 'Well, has anyone spit in my Coke?' and pretty soon you're really paranoid, all because of some dumb game show."  
  
"Sort of a vicious circle."  
  
Josie nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah. It's like, one weird thing is true and then another weird thing is true and pretty soon you're wondering if maybe it's all true, you know?"  
  
"I know." Oz fought the urge to shake his head. It felt like it needed clearing.  
  
"Makes you wonder what kind of strangeness hides behind every normal façade, doesn't it?" Josie's words sounded more like a statement than a question.  
  
Oz had never been so glad to see Sunnydale High looming before them.  
  
***  
  
"Please, please tell me you have some good news." Mr. Trick's voice was extremely calm. Delilah knew that was always a danger sign. She double-checked her notes.  
  
"I think I do," she said. "We heard from Baghdad this morning."  
  
"And?"  
  
"Confirmed."  
  
Trick turned to face her. "You're being very coy with me, Delilah. Now is not a good time for that. What are we looking for?"  
  
She smiled in spite of herself. "Candlesticks."  
  
He stared at her, then a grin spread over his face. "Of course. And it's confirmed?"  
  
"Yes. Definitely an extra set of candlesticks." Her smile diminished in candlepower but did not disappear. "One of our contractors was going over a Babylonian inventory for about the thousandth time and he noticed an extra set of candlesticks on the list."  
  
"That's it?"  
  
"He did a little digging, found several accounts of strange goings-on surrounding this particular set, so he's trying to get a line on what happened to them."  
  
Trick shook his head like a Rottweiler coming in out of the rain. "That is good news." His demeanor darkened. "Now if we could just get some work done around here. Man, do I hate Christmas. Doesn't even snow around here."  
  
***  
  
"So, anybody up for the Big Bronze Christmas Bash tonight?" Xander asked as he shouldered between Buffy and Cordelia.  
  
Buffy thought, then shook her head. "Think I'll give it a skip. But if you go, be careful. It's not the most wonderful time of the year, if you get me."  
  
"Suit yourself, but it's your loss little lady." Xander turned. "Cordy?"  
  
Cordelia made a face of intense mock pain. "Ooooh sorry. I have pageant practice."  
  
"Man," Xander whined.  
  
"Maybe you could go with Oz," Buffy suggested.  
  
Xander shook his head. "No. I've been going too many places with Oz lately. I suspect that people are starting to talk."  
  
"About you? I seriously doubt it." Cordelia turned down another hallway.  
  
"Hey!" Xander followed her. Buffy grinned and turned the other way.  
  
And ran smack into Josie. They each took a quick step back, hasty apologies flying. When the apologies were finished, all that was left was awkward silence.  
  
"So," Buffy finally said. "How are you getting along?"  
  
Josie shrugged and made a face. "You know how it is."  
  
"Yeah," Buffy said. "I do."  
  
"Listen, I may be out of line here, but did I do something wrong?"  
  
Buffy frowned. "No. Why?"  
  
"Oh, it's just that whenever I'm around you I get this real strong vibe that you'd like me to be somewhere else."  
  
Buffy ducked her head. "Sorry. It's not you. Well, it's not anything you did."  
  
Josie squinted in puzzlement. "Could you either explain that or get me a copy of Cryptic for Dummies?"  
  
"I just... You hit a little close to home, that's all."  
  
"How?"  
  
Buffy looked around, wondering why the hallway suddenly seemed so empty and how she'd gotten into this conversation. "I... Last summer I ran away. Not exactly a cherished memory."  
  
"Wasn't fun, was it?" Josie looked sympathetic.  
  
"No, it wasn't." Buffy hugged her books to her.  
  
Josie tried for encouragement. "But you came back."  
  
"Yeah," Buffy said. "But it's not like it's the Rose Parade now."  
  
"It never is. The Rose Parade's made for TV." Josie turned and Buffy fell into step as they walked down the hall. "Is that why you're bagging the Christmas party tonight?"  
  
"What? No." Buffy shook her head. "I just... I don't like Christmas. It gives me the wig."  
  
"How so?"  
  
"It's a con. All Christmas is really about is shopping and spending money." The Slayer held out a hand, palm up. "'Peace on earth, good will toward men'? How about 'No payments 'til February'?"  
  
"So it's the commercialization that bugs you?"  
  
Buffy shrugged. "That sounds too much like A Charlie Brown Christmas. I'm down with presents; I'll take as many as I can get. I just think it's hypocritical to wrap it in something bigger, to try and ennoble shopping with all this other stuff." She had to smile. "Let me be free and honest in my desire to amass goodies."  
  
Josie's long hair bounced in time to her steps as she looked at the Slayer. "You're not that shallow."  
  
"Who says?" Buffy demanded in a tone of mock outrage.  
  
"Oh, I'd say Xander... Willow... Oz... Cordelia... your mom... You've got a lot of people who think the world of you." She fell silent and arched her eyebrows, inviting comment.  
  
"Not everyone feels that way," Buffy said.  
  
"Everyone can't," Josie said. "Besides, it won't happen."  
  
"What?" Buffy said.  
  
"You won't end up alone. Like me." Josie stopped and turned to face the Slayer. "That's what you're scared of, isn't it?"  
  
Buffy's lips tightened. "Since we're being all honest and everything, why are you here? Sixteen, no family, what brought you to Sunnydale?"  
  
Josie looked perplexed. "What makes you think anything 'brought' me here?"  
  
Buffy's voice was cold. "I also don't believe in things happening by accident."  
  
Josie looked as though she was about to make a sharp reply, but instead said, "Okay, here's how it goes. I do have some knowledge of my family. Some of my roots are in this area. I thought returning to the old ancestral home might give some ideas, some sense of direction."  
  
"Has it?"  
  
Josie shook her head. "Sadly, no." She lifted her hand in a little wave. "Sorry if I pried. I gotta go."  
  
Buffy watched the girl disappear into the mass of students, then shook her head and headed toward her own class.  
  
***  
  
"Busy?" Buffy leaned over Willow's shoulder, peering into her friend's locker.  
  
"Not exceptionally," Willow said. "Why?"  
  
"Thought I'd drop by Giles' place before I go home. I want to talk to him about Josie. You want to come with?"  
  
Willow nodded energetically. "Me in." The afternoon was warm as they strolled along the sidewalk. "What are you going to ask Giles about?" Willow asked.  
  
"Patrolling's been crazy. Every hellbeast that can find its way out of a crypt is on the prowl. I want to know if Josie has anything to do with it."  
  
Willow stopped and grabbed the Slayer by the arm. "Do you think she does?"  
  
Buffy crossed her arms. "I think she showed up just around the time this all started. Plus she gives off that whole mysterious knowing vibe. I hate that."  
  
"But what about Oz?" Willow's eyes grew big and round. "If she's evil--"  
  
"Will, I promise you that if Josie's evil and she even thinks about hurting Oz, I will kick her ass. Okay?"  
  
Willow relaxed and smiled. "Okay." She took a couple of steps and stopped again. "Hey, why are we going to Giles' house? Why didn't we just stop by the library?"  
  
Buffy shrugged. "He was gone. Left the minute school was out."  
  
"Hey," Willow said. "Did you see Xander's new snow globe? This one's really cheesy." They traded views on Xander's penchant for collecting holiday kitsch until they reached Giles' apartment.  
  
They had to knock twice before the door opened. Giles peered around the corner at them.  
  
"Uh, hello," Buffy said. "Is anything wrong?"  
  
"What? No, no. What could possibly be wrong?" If a voice could be fidgety, Giles's was.  
  
"So, could we come in?" Buffy asked.  
  
Giles dithered for a moment, then caved. "All right. Come in." The door swung open. Buffy entered, with Willow close behind. Giles closed the door.  
  
Buffy's eyes widened. "Giles," she asked, "why are you wearing that?"  
  
Giles looked from Buffy to Willow and back again. "I do not," he said, "have to explain what I choose to wear in my home."  
  
"Yeah, but that?" Buffy waved a hand.  
  
Giles drew himself up. "This is an historically accurate reproduction of a nineteenth century dressing gown."  
  
"Yeah, well, it makes you look like an historically accurate reproduction of a nineteenth century doofus." Buffy was very amused.  
  
Willow raised her hand. "Um, can I just ask why?"  
  
"It's part of my costume."  
  
"Costume?" Buffy and Willow spoke in puzzled unison.  
  
Giles reached into the pocket of the scarlet silk robe and pulled out a small book. "For my performance of Dickens' A Christmas Carol." Blank looks met this announcement. "On Christmas Eve," he elaborated. "At the Vandivort?"  
  
"Oh." Willow jumped as though she'd just discovered a snake in her pocket. "The community theater downtown."  
  
"Yes." Giles returned the book to his pocket. "I'll be doing a one-man reading. Patrick Stewart's been doing one for years."  
  
"So, you'll be shaving your head?" Buffy was the soul of innocent curiosity.  
  
Giles pursed his lips and gazed up at the ceiling. "I do hope that these assaults on my dignity were not your sole reason for calling."  
  
"No," Buffy admitted. "This was just a pleasant surprise."  
  
"I'm glad I was available for your sport," Giles retorted. "Now, what do you really want?"  
  
***  
  
Faith ground the heels of her hands against her eyes to try and fight off sleep. The sun was drifting down toward the horizon and its orange glare splashed directly on her face. Not even the trees around her blocked it. The CRT complex spread out below her. She raised the binoculars to her eyes and scanned it again.  
  
She'd pretty much bagged school. She spent her days doing recon here and her nights slaughtering every supernatural creature that crossed her path. Then she hit the Bronze or a private party until close to dawn. Sometimes she found someone willing to take her home. Waking in a stranger's bed was no Meg Ryan moment, but she would do anything to stave off that inevitable moment when she returned to the ValleyView, anything to insure that when she did go there she would collapse into unconsciousness the minute her head touched the pillow. The twenty-hour days were taking a toll.  
  
But she would stick it out, stick it out until she found a way to get inside and put a stake through the heart of that murderous bastard Mr. Trick. She dreamed about that moment, that pluperfect instant just before she leaned on the stake and sent him back to Hell.  
  
The sun slid below the hills and she saw two parties leave the complex. Six vampires in each group, probably going to get food for the others. Faith put her binoculars in the case and picked up the stakes that lay beside her. She tucked them into her pants at the small of her back. Trick and his buddies had best be prepared for short rations.  
  
***  
  
"So, you've met a stranger, Xander claims Trick was stalking her, and from this you've extrapolated some grave danger?" Giles's voice held no little disbelief.  
  
"Other than that crack about the straps, yeah, pretty much," Buffy replied. "Something's not right about this girl."  
  
"And you believe this based on your 'spider sense'." Giles inclined his head toward Buffy.  
  
Buffy ignored his skepticism. "She makes it dance wacky. Her vibe is definitely supernatural."  
  
"Really?" Giles packed a heavy meaning-per-pound ratio into that one word.  
  
"Oh, yeah." Buffy took a deep breath. "This is going to sound so weird, but when she left the coffee shop, just for a minute, I thought she... glowed."  
  
There was a moment of silence, then Giles said, "That does sound strange."  
  
"Glowed?" Willow's eyebrows threatened to disappear into her widow's peak. "You mean, like a light bulb?"  
  
Buffy considered this for a moment, then shook her head. "No, it was more like one of those glow sticks you get at a concert."  
  
"Oh." Willow's hands jumped around, the way they always did when she was excited. "So she was fluorescent instead of incandescent."  
  
"I guess," Buffy mumbled.  
  
"If that's true, then there should be something written about it." Giles ignored their deconstruction of Josie's supposed luminescence. "Willow, keep your eyes open. Observe her behavior. Take note of anything that seems in any way ritual. I'll do some research, see if I can find anything on glowing girls." He got to his feet.  
  
"And me?" Buffy asked as she and Willow headed for the door.  
  
"You should continue to patrol. The crowds at this time of year can be an irresistible treat for the undead."  
  
Buffy pouted. "I always have to be the responsible one."  
  
"Yes, well, it's your burden to bear in life." Giles started to step outside, remembered his costume, and remained inside the threshold.  
  
"Have fun rehearsing," Willow said. Giles bowed and closed the door.  
  
***  
  
"Here, let me get that." Josie took the trash bag from Oz. "I'll earn my keep."  
  
"You should stop this," Oz replied. "My parents are thinking of adopting you." Josie smiled at him and went out the back door into the night. The plastic trash can, a thirty-gallon job, stood against the back fence. She sensed movement in the shadows as she dropped the bag inside. One of the shadows was a little darker, a little more solid than the others.  
  
"I know you're there," she said. The shadow hissed at her. "Come out where I can see you," she demanded.  
  
Angel stepped into the light. Josie frowned.  
  
"Angelus," she said. "I'm surprised to see you."  
  
"I don't go by that name any more," Angel said through gritted teeth.  
  
Josie smacked herself on the forehead. "That's right. I'm sorry, really I am. I shouldn't have called you that."  
  
"Why are you here?" Angel asked. "Is it time?"  
  
"Oh," she said, "now you know who I am?"  
  
"I know. Now that I've seen you, I know." Angel was doing his best to keep from cringing.  
  
"Well, I guess that's to be expected." Josie moved her shoulders up and down. "For what it's worth, it's not time. At least, not as far as I know." Angel nodded slowly, starting to fade back into the shadow. "Hey," Josie said, "your... whatever Buffy is to you, I think she could use some help tonight. At some place called the Bronze."  
  
A complex array of emotions played across Angel's face, then he turned and sprinted away. Josie watched him go, then turned her face to the sky. "What's that?" she said. "Oh, you're very welcome." She turned and began walking toward the street. "Is a lousy 'thank you' so hard?" she groused. 


	4. chapter 4

The music inside the Bronze was a muted thump on the street outside. An ad-hoc band comprised of the members of several local groups was playing seriously deranged versions of Christmas tunes. At the moment they were massacring 'Winter Wonderland,' slowing it down into a dirge and creating the impression that Felix Bernard had been one step from ending it all when he penned those immortal words about snow glistening in the lane.  
  
Scott Freeman leaned in close to Nikki Styles and shouted, "Wanna get out of here?" into her ear. Under normal circumstances this would have been considered rude, but the guitar player for No 2 Snowflakes Are Alike (the one-shot band's name) had just launched into an insanely loud solo that recapitulated 'Winter Wonderland's melody and managed to quote 'Every Little Breeze Seems To Whisper Louise', a feat that would have been very impressive if he had realized what he was doing. This rendered Scott's yell barely audible. Nikki nodded, then turned and motioned to Todd Stoltz.  
  
"Wanna split?" she screamed.  
  
Todd nodded. "Yeah," he shouted. "Let's score some beer." He pushed away from the table and led the way out the door. They lurched into the street in a blast of fuzz-toned guitar.  
  
The night air seemed practically frigid after the humid, overheated interior of the club. Scott had his arm around Nikki's shoulder. Todd ambled along beside them. Even though Scott and Nikki were nominally dating, the trio was pretty nigh inseparable.  
  
"Trust me," Todd said, kicking a can lying in the street, "this is a done deal." Little did he know.  
  
Scott noticed the man standing in the street. Something about his posture caused the boy to take his arm off his girlfriend's shoulder. "Hey, man," he said, "is there a problem?" The man said nothing, didn't move. The boys stopped and drew in close to Nikki. Todd swam for Sunnydale High and Scott captained the lacrosse team, but something in this guy's posture radiated more than fitness; it said threat.  
  
And he wasn't alone. A male and a female stepped out into the street to join him. "What do we do?" Todd whispered to Scott.  
  
"I vote that we go back to the dance," Nikki muttered.  
  
"I'm with you," said Scott. "Let's go."  
  
The kids turned back toward the Bronze, but four figures blocked that path. Everyone froze, then one of the women laughed, a sound that chilled the blood of the three students. The tableau held a moment, then Todd decided he had nothing to lose. He threw a punch at the nearest person.  
  
The guy caught his fist like a rubber ball, then squeezed. There was an audible crunch as the metacarpals in Todd's hand collapsed under the pressure. The boy shrieked and dropped to his knees. The dark figures began to move in, laughing.  
  
"My, my, did someone schedule a party and not invite me?" The vampires froze and turned toward the sound of the voice. Buffy jumped down from the Dumpster, landing on the balls of her feet and pivoting to face the vamps.  
  
All of who screamed and charged. Buffy snatched the lid off an aluminum trashcan. She executed a three-sixty spin and let it go like a Frisbee. It whistled through the air and knocked down two of her assailants, but the rest kept coming. She barely had time to snatch a stake from under her jacket before the first one was within arm's reach. She blocked a looping overhand right and plunged the stake up under his ribs; dust showered her.  
  
The second demon, a female in life, threw a cross-body block at Buffy. The Slayer jumped, pulling her feet up under her and allowing the vampire to pass beneath her. While she was in the air, Buffy threw out a side-kick that caught a third vampire in the teeth, knocking him backwards. She landed and shuffled back a couple of steps.  
  
Todd, Nikki, and Scott stood frozen, fear and awe on their faces. "Go!" Buffy yelled. "You've got to get back inside!" They needed no more encouraging. They sprinted toward the club.  
  
Which left Buffy alone with the vamps. She managed to stake the female, but caught a powerful punch to the body from another one. She staggered back. Another hard right followed. Buffy caught the vampire's wrist with her left hand and blocked an attempted right. For a second they were face to face. The demon grinned. Its head rocketed forward and the hard, bony brow ridge caught her above the left eye. Buffy reeled backward, stars exploding in her head. A male lunged forward and threw a punch. It connected, right in her ribcage. The Slayer gasped in pain and went to one knee. A vamp charged. Buffy struggled up and, almost blind with pain, thrust the stake out. It punctured the center of the vamp's chest, but he didn't explode. His arms went around her, trying to wrap her up. Buffy managed to work the stake free. The vamp's head began to descend, fangs gleaming. Buffy jabbed the stake up, and this time she got the heart. Shaking her head, trying to clear the dust from her eyes and the fog from her brain, she felt the rough brick of a wall against her back. The four remaining vampires began to close in.  
  
"Well, Slayer, I guess now you die," one of them growled.  
  
Buffy lifted her stake. "That's the best line you can think of? Boy, is immortality wasted on you." The vampires fanned out. Buffy began to turn, left to right and back again. There were too many of them, and her injuries sapped too much strength. When they all charged, it would just be a matter of time.  
  
The vamp on her far left screamed and exploded. Buffy and the three survivors looked that way. Angel stood there, holding a slat torn from a packing crate.  
  
"Who's next?" he said.  
  
Two vampires attacked him. Buffy was left to deal with one attacker. Even in her weakened state, she was able to stake him, although it took a little longer than normal. As she pulled herself up, she could see Angel standing between two piles of ash.  
  
"What happened with that one guy? You had to stick him twice?" Angel asked.  
  
"Missed his heart the first time. Guess it was two sizes too small." Buffy took a step toward the Bronze and staggered. Angel caught her, but she still gasped as his hand grabbed her injured ribs.   
  
Buffy held up a hand. "I'll be okay."  
  
Angel draped her arm around his shoulders. "I'm sure you will, but I'd feel better if you'd let me walk you home."  
  
"Well," Buffy said, dizziness washing over her, "if it'll make you feel better." She took a deep, painful breath. "I'm really not in any shape to look a gift horse in any part of its anatomy."  
  
***  
  
Faith spat, trying to get the taste of ashes out of her mouth. Two of the vampires in that group had gotten away. Maybe it wasn't just ashes she tasted; maybe it was the choking bile of failure. Still, she had seven kills for the night. She was so tired her eyes were tearing up-or maybe that was just vampire grit. Not even the Bronze sounded good tonight; they were having some sort of dumbass Christmas shindig. Time to stumble off to the ValleyView  
  
***  
  
"I think this will be one of the best attended Christmas programs we've ever had. And a lot of the credit for that belongs to you, Rupert. I think this Christmas Carol reading will be an absolute smash." Jack Baker sipped from the styrofoam cup of coffee in his hand and grimace. "Amazing. After sitting in this cup for three hours, it's awful. Who would've guessed?"  
  
Giles chuckled. "Thank you for the compliment." He assayed a slight bow, trying to hide the delight he took in the praise. Jack was the director of the Vandivort, Sunnydale's well-respected community theater. One of his hallmarks was an outstanding Christmas show, and Giles had suggested his one-man performance with no little trepidation. Jack responded with great enthusiasm, however, and had even offered to direct Giles. The former librarian thought he knew his Dickens, but Jack, a tall man with thinning hair who covered a perfectionist's soul with a laid-back veneer, provided insights that enabled Giles to discover fresh nuances in the work.  
  
"No," Jack said. "Thank you for doing this. I think this will be a real treat for a lot of people." Giles gathered up his things, thanked Jack again for the help, and left the theater. He stopped on the sidewalk and took a deep breath of the night air. It was decidedly unfrosty, but Giles consoled himself with the knowledge that somewhere, at this very moment, someone was caroling.  
  
***  
  
Faith crossed the railroad tracks, her boots clunking against the steel rails. The headlight of a night freight was visible far up the track and on impulse she stepped close to the tracks and closed her eyes. She could feel the ground trembling beneath her feet. The vibration intensified as the train drew closer. She could hear the rhythmic clack of the wheels on the track and the brightness of the light was detectable even through closed eyelids. Then the piercing shriek of the whistle split the night and it was upon her. The wind of the freight's passing tugged at her clothes and she was enveloped in a cloud of grit and debris. The train rushed by in a blur less than an arm's length away. If she wanted, she could reach out, grab hold and let it snatch her away from all this.  
  
With a last swirl of dust and wind and the scream of its whistle the train vanished into the night. Faith opened her eyes and stared into the pale face of a girl standing on the other side of the tracks. The dark Slayer watched the girl step across the tracks, her feet maneuvering over the obstacles with great precision. The girl crossed a few feet to Faith's right and when she drew even with the Slayer she turned and looked at her.  
  
"Hey," the girl said.  
  
"Hey," Faith replied. "What are you doing?"  
  
"Taking a walk."  
  
Faith looked around at the deserted street. "Little late, don't you think?"  
  
The girl shrugged. "You're out."  
  
"Yeah, well, I've got business."  
  
"Oh, I see." The girl looked around at the dry grass poking through the white gravel scattered along the right of way and the locked metal-walled buildings. "Must be pretty solitary business."  
  
"It's my business."  
  
The girl studied the Slayer more carefully. "You're Faith, aren't you?"  
  
Faith tensed. "I don't know you."  
  
"Oh, I've heard about you. Dark, pretty, kinda tense."  
  
"Heard about me from who?"  
  
The girl waved a hand. "Oh, some girl at school. Kind of a funny name... Muffy, no..."  
  
"Buffy." Faith's voice was flat and affectless.  
  
The girl snapped her fingers. "That's it. Buffy. She a friend of yours?"  
  
Faith pursed her lips. "I think this conversation's over."  
  
The girl winced. "Ouch. History there, huh?"  
  
Faith started to walk away then turned back. "I thought she was my friend. She wasn't. End of story. No history."  
  
"Yeah, it's probably best that way. The past can be pretty painful."  
  
"Yeah, whatever," Faith said.  
  
"Take you, for instance." The girl cocked her head to one side and looked at the Slayer.  
  
A bitter smile curled Faith's lips. "You have no idea."  
  
"So you're the girl the world pissed on." There was the faintest tone of challenge, of mockery in that statement. Faith's hands balled into fists.  
  
"You're real close to the edge here," she spat through gritted teeth.  
  
"Hey, hey, not looking for a fight here." The girl took a step back, raising her hands. It caused the too-big overcoat she wore to flap in the night air like giant batwings. "Just one last thing. The past is like an anchor. It can help you ride out a storm, but it can also pull you down and drown you." She turned and walked away, disappearing into the night.  
  
"Thanks for the fortune cookie," Faith sneered.  
  
***  
  
Giles could still see the front door of the theater as he unlocked his car. Jack came outside and began locking up. He dropped the keys in his pocket and turned around when two figures sprang at him from the shadows. Giles dropped his garment bag and sprinted up the sidewalk. One of the attackers knocked Jack to the ground. Giles knew he would not get there in time. The assailant behind Jack opened his mouth wide; Giles saw the glint of fangs in the open maw. As he ran, Giles felt the pockets of his topcoat, trying to find anything. His fingers closed over something round and smooth. Skidding to a stop, Giles plucked the object out. It was a vial of holy water. A small crucifix on a chain was wrapped around its stopper.  
  
Giles hefted the vial in his hand, took two steps and let fly. He didn't care for American baseball, but he'd been a fair cricket player in his day. The holy water described a lazy parabola and dropped directly onto the head of the vampire leaning over Jack. The bottle shattered, fluid soaking the head of one vampire and spattering the face of the other. Both screamed and clawed at their faces. Giles reached them, the crucifix dangling from his hand. One of the vampires, the one with the least holy water damage, reached for him. Giles swung the crucifix on its chain. The small gold cross arced through space and stuck in the fiend's eye. An unearthly howl rent the night. The vampire jerked back, cross lodged in its smoking eye socket, the chain dangling down its face. Undead flesh sizzled. The other vampire, blinded by its own melting face, reached out a groping hand and caught the chain. The cross came free, and the eyeball with it. Giles fought back nausea as the vampires struggled to their feet and staggered away. He wouldn't be chasing them tonight.  
  
Shivering, Giles knelt over his supine friend. "Are you all right?" he gasped.  
  
A shaken Jack stirred. "Rupert? God, what happened?"  
  
"I'm not sure," Giles replied, trying to think of a plausible explanation as he helped Jack to his feet.  
  
Jack brushed off the knees of his trousers and dusted his hands together. "Probably kids. They know we've got sound equipment in the theater. They think they can fence it for a few bucks to buy crank."  
  
That sounded like a fine reason to Giles. "Yes, drugs. What a terrible, terrible scourge on our young people," he commiserated.  
  
***  
  
"So there were how many?"  
  
"Seven." Buffy closed her locker and turned to face Xander. She wore a baseball cap and oversized shades to hide the massive black eye and bruised forehead she sported after the previous night's battle.  
  
Xander scratched his neck. "Aren't our pointy-mouthed buds usually of the solitary persuasion?"  
  
"My take exactly." Buffy adjusted her sunglasses.  
  
"Harris. Summers. Just the sound of your names is enough to ruin my day." They winced and turned to face Principal Snyder. Xander plastered a huge, insincere grin on his face.  
  
"And a ho-ho-ho Merry Christmas to you, sir."  
  
Snyder glared at him. "Don't tax your brain and my patience any further. Both of you missed your afternoon classes yesterday. Why?"  
  
Xander started the tag team. "Well, it is the holidays..." He looked at Buffy.  
  
She picked up the thread. "We were just so full of that holiday spirit..."  
  
"Right, that we just couldn't stay here, so we--"  
  
Snyder waved a dismissive hand. "I don't really care what the actual reason was. I just know that proper procedure was not followed, which means that you two are going to be my guests in detention for, oh, let's say two weeks. Not only that, but--"  
  
"Buffy. Xander." Josie waved at them from behind Snyder. He glanced at her and then reacted as though a scorpion had dropped down his pants. "Hey, Buffy, thanks for the shoulder yesterday," Josie said. Snyder looked as though he were choking. Buffy ignored him.  
  
"You're welcome," she said. "I was just trying to help." Snyder inched away. Buffy turned to him. "Principal Snyder, what about detention?"  
  
"Forget about it." He threw the words over his shoulder as he quick-walked away.  
  
"I don't know what you did," Xander said as he watched the principal disappear around a corner, "but I'd like to order a double."  
  
"Me?" Josie shrugged. "I didn't do nothin'."  
  
***  
  
"Ah, I'm glad you stopped by. I needed to talk to you."  
  
"I figured as much." Buffy tossed her cap onto the table and removed her sunglasses.  
  
"Good Lord," Giles sputtered. "What happened to you?"  
  
"This?" Buffy pointed toward her forehead. The blue-and-green bruise extended into her hairline. A swollen ring of purple-black surrounded her eye. "Tangled with a vampire who'd seen Roadhouse. I'll be as good as new in twenty-four."  
  
Giles looked at her for a moment. "Well, if you're sure about that, then I'll tell you this. There seems to be great agitation among the undead of Sunnydale."  
  
"Gee, who would've guessed it? I guess that's why I ended up tangling with seven uglies at once."  
  
Giles' eyebrows shot up. "Seven? Why, that's, that's almost like a... a..."  
  
"A gang? Then I guess these guys would be the Bloods."  
  
Giles frowned. "What are you talking about?"  
  
Buffy waved him off. "Never mind. I guess I'm a little punchy."  
  
"Seven?" Giles rubbed his chin. "How did you ever win?"  
  
"Help from an unexpected quarter. Angel showed up."  
  
Giles' eyebrows rose even higher. "Oh." He took a deep breath. "Perhaps you shouldn't patrol tonight."  
  
"Gee, how great minds think alike." Buffy's voice was dry. "Any idea whether Josie is a factor in this little situation?"  
  
Giles raised his hands palm up. "She is a variable, but I can't say for sure."  
  
"Well, something's a little hinky about her."  
  
"How so?"  
  
Buffy gave him a 'come on' look. "She shows up in Sunnydale at Christmas, she bonds with our little gang... It's all a little too, if you get my drift. Plus she gives Snyder the wig."  
  
"How so?"  
  
"Oh, he was running some smack on Xander and me when she walked up. Snyder acted like he'd eaten a bug." Buffy smiled at the memory.  
  
Giles stepped behind the desk and hauled out a thick volume. "I'll keep looking. In the meantime, I don't want you patrolling tonight." Buffy snapped him a salute, put on her cap and shades and left. As the doors swung shut Giles reached under the counter and yanked out the catalog. "I'm ordering that crossbow today," he muttered.  
  
***  
  
Too bad there's no money in wandering the streets, Xander though as he strolled along. It was a sunny afternoon, but it could have been raining toads (which, come to think of it, was possible in Sunnydale) and he would still avoid going home. It just seemed so much easier that way.  
  
"Lost in thought, or just lost?"  
  
He jumped and whirled and maybe, just maybe, made a little yipping noise that could be called a scream. Josie stood there.  
  
"Whoa," he said. "Was that really necessary?"  
  
She shrugged. "I suppose not, but it sure was fun. Are you on your way home?"  
  
"Not bloody likely," Xander said in his worst English accent, which was pretty bad. "Actually, this is part of a personal odyssey, a crusade, if you will, to memorize the entire street system of Sunnydale inch by inch."  
  
"Wow." She was mock-impressed. "Sounds challenging."  
  
"You know it."  
  
She cocked her head to one side. "Don't get along with the family?"  
  
Xander shrugged. "Spoken like someone who knows."  
  
"Yeah, I kinda understand it."  
  
Xander resumed walking. "Is it so hard for people to just get along? And not in the Rodney King, 'please let's stop killing each other' kind of way. I mean, in a 'hey, we're blood relatives, let's treat each other better than crap' kind of way."  
  
"That bad, huh?"  
  
Xander's laugh was a bitter parody of amusement. "It makes for a seriously warped Christmas."  
  
"Ah yes, the old 'don't get along with the family.' Problem number twenty-six." Josie shook her head, letting the breeze lift her hair and the sun shine on her face. "Okay, you're family's a mess. But you're not the only one with that problem."  
  
"Please." Xander squinted at the sun. "No one has a family even remotely like the Harrises."  
  
"What about Cordelia?"  
  
"Cor? She's got problems, but family isn't one of them."  
  
"How do you know?" Josie's hair whipped across her face as she looked at him.  
  
"Well, I guess I really don't, since there's never been any contact there."  
  
"Okay. Don't think I'll pick that scab anymore. So you're family's a mess. What about Buffy?"  
  
He shrugged. "Her mom's cool. She seems to get along pretty good with her dad."  
  
"So Buffy is the one who's got it made."  
  
Xander smiled. "I wouldn't say that."  
  
Josie stepped close to him. Xander could smell her hair. He felt a little dizzy. "You're funny," Josie said, her voice just a notch above a whisper. "But you shouldn't hide behind it."  
  
Xander blinked. Her voice sounded like it was coming from far away. "Excuse me?" he said. As she stepped away, he called out, "Where are you going?"  
  
She turned and spread her arms wide. "Back to Oz's. He's cool." Her coat swirled around her. "Get happy. It's Christmas." She turned and walked away from him, taking long, confident strides down the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street.  
  
"Well, Dick," Xander said, to no one in particular. "I give it a ninety-eight on the wig-o-meter. It had a good beat and it definitely freaked me out." 


	5. chapter 5

Buffy and Willow sprawled across the bed. Various issues of YM, Seventeen and People were scattered on the floor. An open bag of cookies lay between them.  
  
"So," Willow said, "do you think this is a mature way to deal with my anger?"  
  
Buffy shook her head, but gingerly. The swelling was already decreasing but her eye was still sore. "No, but the mature way's not any better. Remind me again why you're angry."  
  
"Well, think about it. There's a girl living in my boyfriend's garage and she's like, kind of cute."  
  
"Come on, Oz is completely Willow-struck. He wouldn't do anything."  
  
Willow pouted. "Oz wouldn't but Josie might."  
  
Buffy gave her friend a sad glance. "Will, you've been listening to too much Loveline."  
  
"Oh, it really wouldn't be her fault." Willow was dead serious, and in Sunnydale that was serious indeed. "Oz exudes a powerful attraction. It can be quite irresistible."  
  
"Right." Buffy struggled to keep a straight face.  
  
"My personal theory is that it has something to do with him being a werewolf."  
  
"You mean kind of an animal magnetism thing." Buffy's voice sounded a little choked.  
  
Willow nodded. "Exactly."  
  
Buffy beckoned with her hand. "Gimme another Fig Newton."  
  
Willow complied. "Does your eye hurt?"  
  
Buffy shrugged, her mouth full. "Looks worse than it feels. Ribs are pretty sore though."  
  
Willow bit into a cookie. "So Angel showed up, huh?"  
  
Buffy sighed. "Yes."  
  
"Wanna talk about it?" Willow tried to sound as though she didn't care one way or the other. She came close.  
  
"Not much to talk about," Buffy said. "I was about to do an Alamo, he showed up, end of story."  
  
"Don't you find it a little weird that you two keep being forced together?"  
  
Buffy shifted. "No," she said quickly. "I mean, I'm the Slayer, he's a vampire, there's a lot of opportunity for our paths to cross."  
  
Willow looked at her. "Is there something else?"  
  
Buffy closed her eyes. When she opened them her best friend was staring at her. The Slayer took a deep breath. "Okay, Will, I'm going to tell you something and you have to promise not to freak."  
  
***  
  
Giles closed the heavy book and shoved it to the far side of the table. That particular volume had yielded exactly no useful information. He slid another book, bound in the hide of some esoteric species, in front of him and opened it. He began to read.  
  
***  
  
Othniel Hampton surveyed the vampires gathered in the room and glowered. They were all behaving abominably. Some were sullen and morose, others on edge and ready to fight anything, even each other, at the drop of a hat, or even a hatpin. Maybe it was that damned vibration, that hum in the air. It was like standing under an electric trunk line, the air charged with so much power that you could practically hear it. The move hadn't helped anyone's attitude, but that was a necessity. Even vampires don't live in burned-out shells. Hampton looked around him, trying to make eye contact with each and every demon. "I know you're angry. I know you've been ready to tear each other apart for days. Well, tonight, we let all that go. Tonight, instead of taking it out on each other, we take it out on them!"  
  
The room erupted in shouts and applause. The Reverend made the rounds, shaking hands, slapping backs, even throwing the odd punch. By sundown they would be worked into a frenzy. The Slayers had taken a toll on his forces; he had only half the number with which he'd arrived in Sunnydale. Tonight, they would swell their numbers. The word was that one of the Slayers would be hors de combat this evening. The other one spent her time staring at Trick's fortress and picking off his scavengers. Torching the house was her only gesture in the Reverend's direction.  
  
Hampton drew a deep breath (or would have if he actually breathed) and watched the windows set high in the wall. The light faded; it was time.  
  
***  
  
"And then you kissed him?" Willow rested her chin on her folded arms and stared at Buffy.  
  
The Slayer blushed. "Yeah. I did."  
  
"Hmm." Willow rolled over on her back and stared at the ceiling. "Well, that does complicate things."  
  
"Could you be a little less understanding?" Buffy said. "Yell at me. Tell me I'm crazy. Remind me how I'm endangering the world."  
  
"Sorry," Willow said. "Not judgment girl here. Besides, even if I did all those things, would it make one bit of difference if you were in that situation again?"  
  
"No." Buffy's voice was small and miserable. Willow sat up and swung her feet to the floor.  
  
"There you go," the redhead said. "I will not waste my harangues on you. If you want somebody to make you feel better by yelling at you, don't come to me." An impish grin creased her face. "That's how you really hurt a masochist, you know?"  
  
Buffy looked at her. "Thanks, Will."  
  
***  
  
An expression that was equal parts snarl and smile rested on the face of Othniel Hampton. Already they had amassed seven kills, five of them turned. There had been no sign of either of the Slayers. A breeze riffled through his hair. It was cool on his cheek. A romantic might have called it a clean or refreshing breeze, but he knew all of that was lies. There was no cleansing for this place short of fire. Sorrow and the scourge were all its inhabitants deserved. He was the scourge and he would visit sorrow on them in abundance.  
  
He rounded a corner at the head of his mob and stopped short. Someone bumped into him from behind, an offense that would normally have resulted in immediate death, but he barely noticed. A girl stood in the middle of the sidewalk, to the human eye a thin girl with dark hair, but it pained Hampton to look upon her.  
  
"You," he said. "Why are you here?"  
  
She stood with her hands shoved into the pockets of her oversized coat. "Oh come on. Don't be such a drama queen about it. We're everywhere, just like you."  
  
The other vampires fanned out behind him as he circled around her. She turned with him in order to remain face to face. She didn't seem worried that she was presenting her back to his followers. The blue-white vapors of the streetlight cast strange shadows over the shifting mass.  
  
"Why do you torment us?" he demanded. "Why do you mock what I have become after all my years of service to you?"  
  
"Give it up," she said in a disgusted voice. "You haven't given us anything. You've only taken the memories of a man, a man that you did nasty things to before you killed him. A man who was ours, even if he was a little narrow-minded. Don't think that's gone unnoticed."  
  
Hampton's eyes narrowed like a threatened cat's. "We are what we are. He was weak and so lost his battle. Weak as all who walk on this befouled orb."  
  
"Oh please. At least stop talking like an old G.K. Chesterton short story." The girl shook her shoulder, settling her coat. "And give the 'Oh how this place sucks' routine a rest. You love it here, you know it." A small, nasty smile graced her lips. "I suppose you could always ask Your Father for reassignment."  
  
Hampton hissed in frustration and little fear. "Do not scorn me."  
  
"That's what really bothers you, isn't it? The idea that I don't take you all that seriously, that you're kind of a joke. Get used to it."  
  
"This is your mission now? To make sport of us?"  
  
"No, that's just a bonus. It's the regular gig. Walk around, make a report, keep everybody up-to-date."  
  
Hampton drew himself up. Sensing his intention the other vamps drew close, their eyes and fangs glittering. "You are sure of yourself. Perhaps too sure. What if I take offense at your presence?"  
  
Josie rolled her eyes. "Please." Her hands came out of her pockets and she leaned forward. Her demeanor changed in a subtle way. Her eyes suddenly became miles deep and green fire burned within them. "Now you're just bothering me." She held up her hand and flicked her fingers at them. "Begone," she said and Hampton jumped back as though she held the sun itself in her hand. He turned and hurried away. Such an ignominious retreat might have damaged his standing with his followers except for one fact: They were already halfway down the block.  
  
***  
  
Giles pushed the leather-bound manuscript away and pulled another book into its place. His inquiries into glowing girls had yielded no fruit, so he'd changed tack. Something about the attack on Jack Baker bothered him. Not the attack itself; vampires were ready anytime, anywhere. Rather, it was the frenzied nature of the assault, the way the creatures seemed to be struggling with each other, and with something unseen, that he thought might be a key. So far he had uncovered nothing in that area either. 'Maybe they got hold of some bad blood,' he thought. "Yes," he said to himself, "that would explain it. And I'll be the next queen." He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Maybe it was time to quit, to try and get some sleep. He closed the books and was gathering them when the knock came at the door.  
  
Giles glanced at the clock. One-thirty a.m., so it wasn't the mailman. Giles rummaged in the closet and brought out the old crossbow. Whoever was there knocked on the door a second time. Holding the weapon with the stock under his right arm, he carefully opened the door with his left hand.  
  
Angel didn't flinch from the crossbow. Giles noticed the blood on his face and the ripped sleeve on his coat.  
  
"Rough night?" the Watcher asked, trying to keep his voice steady.  
  
"You might say that."  
  
There was a pause, tension-filled moment that stretched out to a length just short of eternity, then Giles spoke. "You'll understand if I don't invite you in."  
  
Angel nodded. "I understand."  
  
Giles looked at him with hard eyes. "Why are you here?"  
  
A mordant smile danced on Angel's lips and died before it reached his eyes. "That's the question, isn't it? Why am I here at all."  
  
"I've no time for your attempts at wit nor any tolerance for your self-pity." The crossbow had not wavered in Giles' hands. He used it to gesture at Angel's coat. "What happened?"  
  
"That?" Angel fingered the rip. "Tangled with a pack of ghouls. You know how they are. Not very smart, but they keep coming. Finally had to just tear off all their limbs."  
  
Giles remembered how Jack's attackers had acted. "Something's... amiss, isn't it?"  
  
Angel grimaced. "I'll say. It's crawling with even more goblins than normal, and they're all acting like something's driving them crazy."  
  
"Any theories as to what it might be?"  
  
Angel shook his head. "No real theories... but I might have some information for you."  
  
Giles felt the tendons in his neck tighten. "And exactly why would I want information from you?"  
  
Angel ran a hand through his hair. "Giles, I... I'd like to say something that sounds better than 'I'm sorry', but I can't." He looked down at the ground, then back up into the librarian's eyes. "It's tempting to say it wasn't me... Maybe that's partly true. But part of it was me, at least there was some part of me that let Angelus... that fed him... something in my psyche that..."  
  
"Stop it." Giles gripped the crossbow more tightly to disguise the tremor in his hands. "Do you want to hear me say I forgive you? You won't. I remember what you did. I remember... I remember what I came home to find."  
  
Angel's eyes were windows into an anguished soul. "I know what I did. I remember it every day. I've..." He ran out of things to say and looked off into the night, then back at Giles. "You know where I was?"  
  
"Couldn't give you a street address, but I've some idea of the neighborhood." A trace of the Ripper's old accent touched Giles' speech.  
  
"One of the things they like to do there is remind you of all the things you did on earth that brought you to them. They're very good at making you remember." Angel shuddered. "I'll go. But you should talk to the girl."  
  
To his great amazement Giles heard himself say, "I'll stop by on my way to rehearsal."  
  
Angel nodded. "Yeah, I saw a flyer for that. How's it going?"  
  
Giles was surprised; Angel's interest seemed genuine. "Quite well, if I can keep the director from being killed by vampires."  
  
Angel pursed his lips. "Well, good luck. You've got big shoes to fill." He started toward the door.  
  
"You've seen Stewart's performance?" Giles asked.  
  
Angel stopped in the open doorway and turned back, a wistful look on his face. "No. I saw Dickens'." He disappeared into the night.  
  
Giles blinked twice. "Well," he said to the empty doorway, "I doubt if I can measure up to that."  
  
***  
  
"No, that would be a right triangle. See?" Willow pointed with her pencil. Buffy's face twisted into a frown as she tried to decipher her friend's reasoning. She should have done the homework at home. Trying to throw it together in the student lounge was not a primo idea.  
  
"Of course," she said. "How obvious." She set to work erasing her previous figures. Slayer sense detected someone approaching. She looked up just as Xander and Cordelia sat down across from them.  
  
"Buffy, Willow," Xander said. "Where's Oz?"  
  
"I don't know," Willow said, giving it a little head shake and big eye action. "But I'm sure he's with Josie."  
  
Cordelia leaned forward. "Oh Willow, you don't think Oz would dump you for a homeless girl who doesn't even have any clothes, do you? That would be so wrong."  
  
"It's nice to see that you hold such a high opinion of Oz." Xander's voice was soaked in sarcasm. He stood. "Try not to talk about me while I'm getting a soda."  
  
"Don't pay any attention to him," Cordelia said as Xander strolled out of earshot. "He can be such a guy sometimes."  
  
Buffy spoke from behind her geometry textbook. "I think you're both going a little Lifetime here. Oz is not about to dump Willow."  
  
"Well, then, why does he spend so much time around her?" Willow asked in a plaintive voice.  
  
"I can answer that," Xander said, dropping down on the couch and popping the top on a Coke. "He's talking about Christmas."  
  
"Excuse me?" Buffy lowered her book and stared at him.  
  
"I hear 'em yesterday." Xander took a drink. "They were in the cafeteria before sixth period yesterday talking about Christmas."  
  
"Do you think Oz is going to dump me because I'm Jewish?" Willow's voice climbed into its upper register.  
  
Buffy placed a calming hand on her friend's arm. "I feel very safe in saying that category is not even on the board."  
  
Xander chugged his Coke and tossed the empty into the recycling can under the window. He thrust a fist into the air as it dropped in, then looked a little sheepish as he noticed all three girls staring at him. "Oz, uh, Oz just thinks the Christmas story is cool. He says it's got everything-sex, violence, government cover-up, social commentary." He turned to Cordelia. "That reminds me, when is your pageant? Because Oz wants to go."  
  
Cordelia rolled her eyes. "It's on Christmas Eve, you yutz."  
  
Willow pointed to herself. "But if Christmas is so important to Oz, why doesn't her ever talk to me about it?"  
  
Cordelia shook her head. "It's a bad sign when couples start keeping things from each other."  
  
"Really?" Xander glanced at her. "I thought it was the foundation of our relationship. Ow." He rubbed his upper arm.  
  
Buffy bounced her geometry book on her knees. "Here's a crazy idea. Maybe it's out of respect. You know, you don't celebrate Christmas so he doesn't go on around you."  
  
Willow brightened. "Really? How sweet."  
  
"So Buffy, Oz is going to the pageant. It goes without saying that I'm there. You in?" Xander propped his feet on the coffee table.  
  
Buffy shook her head. "I don't know. Probably not."  
  
"I'm in." Willow raised her hand.  
  
There was a beat of silence, then Buffy said, "Willow, are you sure about this?"  
  
"Yes. It's time to walk on the wild side. Besides, it's good to expose ourselves to different cultures." Willow sounded very sure.  
  
Xander snickered. "Different cultures? Will, it's the Presbyterian church on the corner, not Nepal."  
  
Willow shrugged. "Still."  
  
"Let me get this straight." Cordelia pointed at first Willow, then Xander. "You're both coming to the pageant?" They nodded. "Great. Now I'm playing the guardian angel of geeks." Willow scooped up her books.  
  
"I gotta go," she said. "See you later?" Buffy nodded. Willow zipped her backpack and hurried down the hall. She turned a corner at full speed and smacked into Josie.  
  
"Whoa," said the brunette as she staggered back. "Where's the fire, Willow?"  
  
"I'm sorry," Willow stammered, hands waving.  
  
"It's okay." Josie shook herself dramatically. "I don't think anything's broken."  
  
"Well, then, it's good." Willow put her head down and ducked around the other girl.  
  
"Hey, mind if I walk with you?" Josie fell into step with the redhead. Willow shrugged.  
  
"I guess not."  
  
"I wanted to thank you for how cool you've been about me staying at Oz's house," Josie said.  
  
The redhead shrugged, unsure of what to say. "You're welcome."  
  
"You've got great friends."  
  
"Thank you." A thought occurred to Willow. "Can I, uh, ask you something?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
Willow stepped into an alcove by a soda machine. "How did you... I mean, what happened... Do you have a family? I'm sorry if that's too personal." Willow bit her lip.  
  
Josie looked at her feet, then back up at Willow. "That's pretty personal. Any particular reason you're asking?"  
  
Willow shook her head. "No. I just wondered, is all."  
  
As they passed a bulletin board Josie looked at a flyer stuck to it. Her face was turned away from Willow. "You know, you're a really lousy liar."  
  
Willow winced. "I know. I think it's something genetic, like I have a mutation or something. But I'm not trying to be mean."  
  
"Buffy's never talked about what happened to her, has she?" Josie raised a questioning eyebrow.  
  
"How did you know about Buffy?"  
  
"She told me. Oh, she didn't tell me what happened. She just told me she ran away. Was she gone long?"  
  
Willow drew in on herself. "Depends on what you call 'long'. She was gone a whole summer. We still don't know where she went or what happened."  
  
"And you're hoping I can provide a little insight?"  
  
"Something like that," Willow admitted.  
  
"You do know she doesn't like me?"  
  
"I think... I think that's because you remind her of... that time." Willow's voice was a little shaky.  
  
"Sorry." Josie sounded very apologetic. "Didn't mean to pick at old scabs. I'll answer your question. No. I never had a family like you or like Buffy. Not even like Cordelia, or Xander for that matter."  
  
"Wow." Willow's voice was soft. "You've always been alone?"  
  
Josie's shoulders lifted in a small shrug. "More or less."  
  
"I'm so sorry." It was the only thing Willow could think of. A great sadness filled her as she thought of this girl, and of Buffy, alone with nowhere to turn.  
  
"Thanks for the feeling, but don't be sorry for me." Josie smiled. "There's no other way for me to be." Josie hesitated. "It was no accident she came back. You should stop worrying about it."  
  
Willow pursed her lips. "Easier said than done and all that."  
  
"I know. Hey, want a soda?" Josie hit the button twice. Two Dr. Peppers came rattling down the chute. She handed one to Willow. "You've got to stop trying to control everything. You can't do it."  
  
"I'm not particularly controlling, in fact, I'm pretty non-controlling." As Willow spoke her head gave that little wiggle that betrayed her bravado.  
  
"Right." Josie grinned and took a drink. "Listen, I'm not going to stress about it. I'm just saying, you know? See you 'round." She walked off, coat flapping.  
  
Willow scowled. "Control freak. Me? Right." She frowned at the can of soda in her hand. She realized that she'd never seen Josie put money in the machine. 


	6. chapter 6

"So Giles, what's up?" Buffy said as she pushed through the library's doors. She continued past the counter and sat down at the table, propping her booted feet on it.  
  
Giles came around the counter and approached the table. "Something very perplexing has occurred--"  
  
"Wait, wait. I know this one." Buffy spread her arms and closed her eyes. "Let's see... Some prophecy predicting Armageddon? The end of the world? The return of A-Ha?"  
  
Giles stopped, hand on his heart. "Oh dear Lord, nothing so dire as that, I hope." Buffy sat up, staring at him. He gave her a stern look. "Are we done feeling superior to the doddering old Watcher?"  
  
Buffy fingers danced delicately on the table. "Okay, I deserved that. For real this time?"  
  
Giles sat down, forearms resting on the tabletop. The knot in his tie was pulled loose. "I had a visitor last night." He looked down at his clasped hands. "Angel showed up on my doorstep."  
  
Buffy leaned toward him. "Giles, was... is everything... all right?"  
  
"I didn't invite him in." Giles opened his hands and stared at the palms. "For many reasons. He did, however, confirm your impression about this girl. She frightens him."  
  
"I know you don't want to hear me defend him, but he's scared of a lot right now."  
  
"Yes, I imagine he would be." Giles looked at her. "I don't doubt that he is the Angel you knew before... but when I saw him standing there, when I remembered... I thought... I thought I had dealt with everything, but when I actually saw him..." His eyes glittered and his voice held a harshness that reminded Buffy that inside her gentle Watcher was the remnant of the Ripper. "I still can't find it in my heart to feel sympathy toward him." He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. When he looked at her again, he was the old Giles. "I hope you understand."  
  
"I do." Buffy cleared her throat. "So, what's our plan about Josie?"  
  
Giles shrugged. "I thought I'd visit her tonight."  
  
***  
  
Cordelia studied her nails as the teacher lectured. "So Jung's theory of archetypes says that we are born knowing, or at least sensing, certain things. That explains why--" The bell rang. Cordelia scooped up her books and left the room, joining the flow of students changing classes.  
  
"Cordelia. Just the person I was looking for."  
  
Cordelia glanced over her shoulder and saw Josie. "Oh, I'm so lucky. And you would be looking for me why?"  
  
Josie made a 'no big deal' gesture. "I just wanted to thank you for the clothes." They arrived at Cordelia's locker. "Do you have pageant practice tonight?"  
  
Cordelia worked her combination. "Yes. Why?"  
  
Josie stuck out her lower lip. "Well, I don't know if I'll be here for the performance, so I thought I might come and watch rehearsal."  
  
That got Cordelia's attention. "Really. Are you thinking of leaving us?" She gave Josie a smile as genuine as Dennis Miller's humility.  
  
Josie reflected it right back at her. "You never know what might happen. Would it be okay if I stopped by the church?"  
  
Cordelia shrugged and rolled her eyes. "Sure. Whatever. Tonight's dress rehearsal."  
  
"Great. I'll see you then. And thanks again for the clothes." Josie started to leave, remembered something and turned back. "You know, you shouldn't try to carry it all by yourself. They will help if you'll let them."  
  
"Excuse me?" Cordelia tilted her head. "What self-help book did you pull that out of?"  
  
Josie stepped closer and stared into the other girl's eyes. Cordelia found herself unable to look away; the other girl's green eyes bored into her, through her, rendering her transparent. "You're better than you let them see."  
  
Cordelia shook her head. Why did she feel so cobwebby? "What?"  
  
Josie's voice was very soft and she looked very sad. "And you're better than you let yourself see." She looked away. Cordelia almost stumbled, like someone had pulled away a chair she was leaning on. Josie was walking away. "Listen," she said over her shoulder, "I'll see you tonight."  
  
Cordelia watched her leave and thought, 'Not if I see you first.'  
  
***  
  
A muffled thumping shook the trap door. Josie put down the book she was reading. "Who is it?" she called out.  
  
"Oz."  
  
"Oh. Come on up." The door rose and Oz's head slowly appeared in the opening. Josie's face was puzzled as she met his eyes. "Anything wrong?" she said.  
  
"Uh, no. I just wanted to make sure you weren't, you know."  
  
"Well, I'm not."  
  
"Cool." Oz clambered into the attic but instead of closing the door he stepped to one side. Giles climbed up the ladder, looking rather stiff even in dark pants and a baggy sweater. Josie cocked her head to one side. Giles extended his hand, which she grasped.  
  
"Hi," she said. "I'm Josie." She wore a black long-sleeved T over baggy jeans.  
  
Giles nodded. "Well, unless Oz has a colony of young women living over his garage, I had rather assumed that. I'm--"  
  
"Mr. Giles, the school librarian. I know." She stuck her hands in the back pockets of her jeans.  
  
"Yes, but how did you know that?"  
  
She shrugged. "It's a big deal? Come on, who doesn't know the school librarian?"  
  
Giles pursed his lips. "The majority of Sunnydale students, I can assure you of that." He turned to Oz. "Could you possibly excuse us?"  
  
Oz looked from the Watcher to the girl. "Sure," he said and climbed back down, closing the door over his head.  
  
Giles kept his voice light and pleasant. "Forgive me if I seem abrupt, but who are you?"  
  
Josie spread her hands, looking baffled. "I'm a sixteen year old high school student."  
  
Giles held up an index finger. "Yes, you see, that's interesting, because you don't actually seem to be enrolled at Sunnydale High." Josie said nothing, just gave Giles an 'Is that so?' look. "Shall I go on?" he said.  
  
Josie giggled. "'Shall I go on?' What is this, a Hitchcock movie? You sound like a prosecuting attorney."  
  
Giles looked vaguely offended at her response. "I simply want to know who you are."  
  
"Why? Who do you think that I am, Mr. Giles?" She looked frankly into his eyes. They locked stares for a long moment. Giles did not break eye contact as he spoke.  
  
"I do not know exactly, but I suspect that you are a great deal more than a sixteen year old girl."  
  
Josie shrugged. "And I suspect that you are a great deal more than a school librarian."  
  
"Touché." Giles voice was quiet.  
  
Josie waved a hand at him. "Don't be so mistrustful, Giles. Despite what you think, you're not the only one who cares about Buffy and her future."  
  
"I don't recall mentioning Buffy."  
  
Josie rolled her eyes. "You didn't. I did. Geez, Giles, next time ask for light starch in that underwear." Giles looked shocked. Josie arched one eyebrow. "What, only the chosen few get to make jokes?"  
  
"Who are you?" Giles said again.  
  
"Let's just say I have a job to do."   
  
"What kind of job?" he said, struggling to keep his voice steady.  
  
She shook her head. "I watch. I observe. I make reports." She grinned. "I guess in some ways I'm a lot like you."  
  
"Report to whom?" he asked. "My guess is it's no one on earth." She touched an index finger to her nose.  
  
"Give the man a lolly," she said.  
  
"You haven't answered my question."  
  
"How do I do that?" Josie tugged at one ear. "I can't name him in your language."  
  
Giles looked flinty. "Try me."  
  
Josie looked around the attic before settling her gaze on the Watcher. "He is the Name. He Who Must Be Obeyed."  
  
A sardonic glint flashed behind Giles' glasses. "You serve Leo McKern?"  
  
"Hey, nice catch. Most people don't make the Rumpole of the Bailey connection." Josie shook out her hair.  
  
"Most people haven't seen Rumpole of the Bailey," Giles said. He crossed his arms in front of him. "You do realize that this all sounds very delusional."  
  
Josie eyes widened. "Does this seem delusional, Mr. Giles?" She leaned toward him and for a split-second her face blurred. An image of the old Godley and Crème video for "Cry" flashed through Giles' head. Whatever subcutaneous movement he'd seen stopped. Her face was still recognizable, but it had changed. Now it was a face of such beauty and power that a cold finger of dread touched his spine. Even her voice was different, rich and musical in a way that thrilled and terrified him. He took a step back. His head bumped the light bulb hanging from the rafters. Crazy shadows instantly crisscrossed the space, making her look even more uncanny. Then she shook her head and she was suddenly just a schoolgirl again.  
  
"You shouldn't be glib, Mr. Giles." Her smile was apologetic and rueful. "Sorry if I scared you, but it really pisses me off." She began to pace back and forth across the attic. "You humans all hate mystery so much. Nothing bothers you more than not knowing; you can't just accept anything. That's why you have to try and quantify everything, to name the nameless and pretend you understand it."  
  
"Pardon me for interrupting your tirade," Giles snapped, "but we are engaged in serious business here. You obviously have some involvement. What is your intention? Which side are you on?"  
  
She giggled, the bubbling snicker of a small child. "That's great. You guys think you're one of the sides don't you?"  
  
Giles frowned. "I'm not sure I understand."  
  
"Of course you don't. You always think you're fighting the war, but the truth is the war's being fought over you."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Look, Mr. Giles, I'd love to continue our lovely dialogue, but I really have to go." She picked up her coat.  
  
"But..." He started to protest but then realized that it was imperative for her to leave. At least that thought popped into his head from somewhere.  
  
"You're a nice man, but I have other places to be. Take care of yourself. Watch out for Buffy." She smiled and extended her hand.  
  
"Well, yes, of course." Giles grasped her hand. "You will be careful?"  
  
"That's sweet. Thank you."  
  
After he descended the ladder Josie put on her coat. As she lowered herself through the door she looked around the attic. "They really were quite nice," she said to herself. She looked up at the light. It blinked out and darkness filled the attic.  
  
***  
  
Buffy crept through the darkness. Her caution seemed ludicrous. The vamp gang ahead of her made so much noise she could probably ride up on a Harley and tossing out cherry bombs and they still wouldn't notice her. Luckily this industrial area of Sunnydale was all but deserted after dark. The vampires came to a security fence surrounding a warehouse. After an interminable amount of pushing and shouting they clambered over. She moved away along the chain link fence until she found a gap. As she slipped through she noticed that the ends of the wire were still bright and shiny where they'd been cut. Probably thieves inside the company planning a little late night help yourself party. As the demons clustered in a ragged huddle on the concrete lot Buffy searched the area around a loading dock for an impromptu weapon. A five-foot length of half-inch pipe felt just about perfect. She crouched behind the dock's shadowy bulk as she plotted her attack. Six vamps were a lot, especially with her ribs still sore, but the way these monsters acted made her think she could take them-they behaved like frat guys on the sixth keg. Lots of arguing, some clumsy fights and a lot of oafish footwork. Buffy eased her makeshift steel quarterstaff into her left hand, preparing to advance on them by stealth. She kept her breathing shallow; it was really cold tonight and she didn't want the vapor from her breath betraying her.  
  
A movement in the corner of her eye caused her to turn her head. Someone was walking across the lot. The vampires noticed; they spread out to surround this fresh meat. Buffy sighed. Surprise was out of the question now. She jumped up on the dock.  
  
"Hey guys," she said. "Ignoring a girl is a sure way to hurt her feelings." It was almost comical to watch six fanged heads swivel to look at her, at their approaching meal, then back to her. Buffy jumped off the dock into their midst. She landed lightly on the balls of her feet, swinging the pipe. It caught a wire-skinny vampire upside the head. He went down in a heap. The others took a step back. Buffy whipped the pipe around in a figure eight, her hands moving so fast the weapon was a blur, the sound of air passing over the pipe's open ends filling the night with a humming sound like a creepy digeridoo. She brought it around, locked it under her left arm and jabbed forward. The end struck a vampire in the chest, driving him backwards. She pivoted on her left foot, sweeping the pipe around in a huge arc. It caught the vampire sneaking up behind her high on the shoulder, knocking him off his feet. She turned back, but the first vamp was nowhere to be found. Buffy almost relaxed-a vampire that ran away would be good news. She heard the crunch of boot on gravel and shoved the pipe backward. A grunt and a loud moan of pain were her reward. Movement swirled around her, but she noticed little of it. Her focus was on the foe in front of her, a female with nails that looked like they would make dandy weapons. Buffy swung the pipe but this vampire was smarter. She dropped to the ground and rolled, popping to her feet inside the arc of the staff. Buffy discarded the pipe without a second thought, tossing it away with her left hand while she plucked a stake from her belt with her right. She threw a left jab. The female vamp slipped it. Buffy shuffled back and threw out a left-footed kick. The vampire caught it on the outside of her right shoulder, absorbing most of the force. Her left hand shot forward and caught Buffy by the throat. The Slayer felt those ragged talons break the skin just before as the look of horror and knowledge entered the vampire's eyes.  
  
"That's why you should never invade someone's personal space." Buffy watched the ashes blow away. She realized that there were no other vampires, but someone was standing behind her. She wheeled, stake high. She froze for a heartbeat, then lowered the stake. "Faith."  
  
Faith stared back, eyes hooded, face unreadable. Her arms were folded; her own stake dangled loosely from her right hand.  
  
"Wow," Buffy said, "and I thought they all ran away." A forced laugh followed.  
  
"They didn't." Faith shifted her weight, one hip cocked. The breeze stirred up a swirl of ashes, underscoring her words. Buffy nodded.  
  
"Thanks for the assist. It was almost like old times."  
  
Faith's face hardened. "If you say so." She started to walk away."  
  
"Faith, wait." Buffy extended a hand. "It doesn't have to be this way."  
  
"No?" Faith looked over her shoulder. "What way does it have to be?"  
  
Buffy swallowed, searching for words. "When does it stop? What'll be enough?" Faith squinted but she didn't walk away. Buffy plunged on. "I know you're hurt and angry and you have every right to be. But are you going to spend every waking moment of every day from now on like this? When you kill Trick, will that set you free? What if it doesn't?"  
  
"I'll cross that bridge when I get to it."  
  
"Faith, it's Christmas. Remember when you said you were alone? You're not."  
  
Faith shook her head. "Don't tell me you know how I feel or I swear to God I'll kick your ass right now."  
  
Buffy looked right into the other Slayer's eyes. "I'm not talking about me. Or Giles, or Willow, or Xander... Faith, you've got my mom. I know... I know that our friendship may be beyond fixing, but my mom loves you."  
  
For a heartbeat Faith wavered. The mask dropped, revealing a look of such open longing that Buffy's heart stuttered. Then the dark Slayer pointed. "You're neck's bleeding."  
  
In reflex Buffy's hand went to the scars from Trick's bite. She felt nothing, then realized that Faith was pointing to the other side of her neck, to the spot where the female vamp had grabbed her. Her fingers came away stained red.  
  
"Yeah," Faith said, walking away. 


	7. chapter 7

Mary and Joseph stared down at the manger, which was positioned precisely at center stage. A twenty-five watt light bulb gave a masterful performance as the baby Jesus. The shepherds were arranged stage right. The choir was arrayed on risers behind the tableau. A spot flicked on stage left and the magi entered. As they crossed toward the stable set the choir began to sing 'We Three Kings of Orient Are.' Cordelia stood in the second row, third from the right.  
  
Josie sat on the next-to-last pew in the darkened sanctuary and swayed in time with the music.  
  
***  
  
Cordelia zipped the garment bag over her choir robe and hung it in the closet. She slung her bag over her shoulder and opened the door to the church foyer. Josie stood in the opposite corner, leaning against the wall. Cordelia rolled her eyes.  
  
"I didn't think you'd still be here," she said.  
  
Josie pushed away from the corner. "I just wanted to wait around and tell you how good I thought it was."  
  
If the compliment was an attempt at being ingratiating it sailed wide of the mark. Cordelia's voice was cool as she said, "Thanks."  
  
Josie gave a small wave. "See ya."  
  
"Wait. Are you going back to Oz's?"  
  
Josie nodded. "Uh-huh. Gotta pick up my stuff and then be on my way."  
  
"Do you have a ride?"  
  
Josie shook her head. "Thought I'd walk."  
  
Cordelia's hand went into her coat pocket, searching for the keys to the Sebring. "That's not a good idea. Let me give you a ride."  
  
"Hey, I don't know if you noticed, but I'll be walking out of town. A ride back to Oz's isn't going to save that much shoe leather."  
  
"What you do after you leave Oz's house is your business. I'm giving you a ride." Cordelia pushed past her toward the church door.  
  
Josie followed. "You sure? I mean, I wouldn't want people to talk."  
  
Cordelia turned and pointed with her keys. "Don't get ideas. It's just that if something happened to you, I'd never hear the end of it. The last thing I need is disapproval from Buffy and her little gang."  
  
"Aren't you part of 'the gang'?"  
  
Cordelia hesitated in mid-turn, then waved a hand in front of her face. "Look, don't ask confusing questions." She pushed the door open. The night was cold and clear; stars pricked the black sky with almost painful light. Cordelia's Sebring was parked at the edge of the lot. There was a distinct lack of security lighting and large portions of the area were swathed in shadow.   
  
"Anything wrong?" Josie asked.  
  
Cordelia looked around. "I don't know... Let's get--" The rest of her words disappeared into a shrill scream as she saw the figures moving across the parking lot. She'd seen that line before-at Sunnydale High, right before the Master rose. "Shit!" she exclaimed as she grabbed Josie's arm. "C'mon. Back to the church." They turned, but a handful of vampires were already between them and the building. Cordy grabbed Josie by the wrist and jerked her toward the car.  
As they sprinted toward the Sebring, Cordelia thought they might make it. She pressed the button on the keychain and saw the Sebring's lights flash; doors unlocked. She heard running feet, vampires close behind.  
  
They reached the car. Cordelia grabbed Josie by the coat as she yanked open the driver's door. A hard shove propelled Josie into the vehicle and across the seat. Cordelia put her foot on the sill.  
  
She was yanked backward, away from the car. She had enough presence of mind to slam the door; maybe the prohibition against vampires entering without invitation would work for the Chrysler. As the door closed with a loud thunk, Cordelia was spun around and slammed against the metal. A strong, cold hand grabbed her throat. She gasped in pain.  
  
"Hello, Cordelia," said Mr. Trick. "I know we've never actually met, but I feel I know so much about you." His hand began to tighten around her throat. Her vision began to blur at the edges. "Say goodnight," he said. She clawed at his hand to no avail. Soft, velvety blackness surrounded Trick's face; his features floated in a bottomless void.  
  
One of the last functioning synapses in Cordelia's brain fired. She realized that she was still holding her car keys in her right hand. She stopped struggling, moving the key chain in her hand until the keys stuck out between her fingers.  
  
"You're cute when you're scared," Trick said. She whipped her hand up, gouging the keys into his face, trying to poke out an eye. He snarled and twisted away, then slapped the keys out of Cordelia's hand. He brought his free hand to his face. He hissed when he saw it come away bloody. He tightened his grip on Cordy's throat, lifting her off her feet.  
  
"That," he said, "was a stupid, stupid thing to do. But then, you're a stupid, stupid girl, aren't you?" He began to squeeze. As the oxygen to her brain was shut off, Cordelia knew that she was going to die. She was going to die, and it would take a long time, and it would hurt so very, very much, and she would beg for death many times, but it wouldn't come. She could read all of this in Trick's face.  
  
She heard a door slam. "Hey, let her go," Josie said. Trick lowered Cordelia to the ground, keeping his grip on her throat, but lessening the pressure.  
  
"What'd you say?" he said.  
  
Josie's voice was clear and firm. " You know you don't want her."  
  
Trick let forth a dry chuckle. " Oh, that's where you're wrong. I do want her. I want them all."  
  
"Hey, I'm offering to come with you, with no struggle. But you've got to let her go."  
  
Trick looked at Cordelia. She could feel tears sliding down her cheeks. He shrugged. "That's a bad trade, you stupid bitch," he said to Josie. He released his grasp on Cordelia's throat and turned toward Josie. "But it's one I'll make." He looked around at the other vamps. "No one touches either of them without my say-so."  
  
Cordelia slid down the side of the Sebring until she was sitting on the ground. Josie watched Trick walk up to her, looking him in the eye as he stopped.  
  
"Not scared, huh?" he asked. A vicious backhand smacked her across the right cheek. She staggered. Trick drove a right uppercut into her stomach. The air gushed from her lungs and she dropped to one knee. Trick hauled her to her feet and clubbed her across the face. As he lifted her up again, her looked into her face. "Scared now?" he asked, just before he slung her against the side of the car. Josie slid down the sheet metal and lay in a heap on the asphalt. Trick stepped forward, wiggling his foot. "These shoes do need breaking in," he murmured, an evil grin on his face.  
  
Cordelia toppled over onto her side, drawing herself into a fetal position. Her hands covered her ears, but the wet, crunching sounds of the beating continued, and she wept. She wept with fear, and with rage, and with shame over the small voice deep in her brain that kept repeating, Thank God it's not me. Thank God it's not me.  
  
***  
  
Buffy tried to hold her arm very still as she walked. Her ribs had stiffened and any extraneous movement brought sharp jabs of pain. Gee, it seemed that kick-ass street fighting wasn't the best therapy for torn cartilage and bruised bone. Who knew? She had walked for what seemed like hours. She wasn't up to any more patrolling after another up-in-flames encounter with Faith and the hardest part, the part that really sucked, was that she had been this close to getting through. She had seen it on Faith's face. There was hurt there and vulnerability, at least a flash of it before she closed up like Mike Tyson's fist. Buffy shook her head. What had life done to that girl?  
  
Buffy realized that she was walking down Whittier. The church where Cordelia was playing an angel was on this street. In spite of the evening's setbacks, that thought brought a smile to the Slayer's face. Cordelia as an angel. Sometimes you just couldn't beat irony. She could see the church ahead of her. She turned into the parking lot and stopped. Cordelia's Sebring sat there, passenger door open. A single body lay on the pavement. Heart in her throat, Buffy raced across the lot. She could hear sounds coming from the figure; she realized they were sobs.  
  
She dropped to her knees. It was Cordelia; she could tell from the hair. "Are you all right?" she said, hands hovering over the other girl.  
  
Cordelia pulled herself up into a sitting position. Her face was shiny with tears and other fluids, her voice hoarse from crying.  
  
"What did Josie do to you?" Buffy asked.  
  
Cordy shook her head. "N-Nothing. I-I-it was Trick. H-H-He t-t-took her. Away."  
  
"I knew it," Buffy said. "She's working with him."  
  
Cordelia shook her head, a gesture that turned into a violent shiver. "No. No. She traded herself for me. Trick had me, but she got out of the car and he let me go. Buffy, he... he almost beat her to death. It was awful."  
  
Buffy was unimpressed. "That's his SOP."  
  
"No." Cordelia was adamant. "This wasn't like anything I've ever seen before." She shuddered again and looked at Buffy with haunted eyes. "This was personal. This was hate."  
  
Buffy sat back on her haunches. "Was he alone?"  
  
"No. Maybe ten with him."  
  
Buffy chewed her lower lip. "Listen, are you okay? I mean, can you go get help?"  
  
Cordelia nodded, sniffling. "Yeah, I think so."  
  
"Then do it. Try and find Giles. Tell him I'll need backup. Can you do that?" Buffy asked. Cordelia nodded again. Buffy turned and sprinted away. Cordelia took a deep breath and started looking for the car keys.  
  
***  
  
The Sebring's brakes squealed in protest as Cordelia stopped short in front of Giles' apartment. She ran up the sidewalk and began ringing the bell with one hand and pounding on the door with the flat of the other. Five minutes of this virtuosity brought no response. She stepped back and saw that the apartment was dark. She pressed her hands to her head, trying to concentrate. Where else could he be? Her head snapped up. That play, or one-man show or whatever it was that he was doing. She headed toward the car. A dark shape stepped out of the shadows and reached for her. Cordelia shrieked.  
  
"Cordelia, it's me." Angel leaned forward, bringing his face out of the shadows.  
  
She put one hand over her heart, which was pounding like a Chemical Brothers track. "Wh-What are you doing here?" she gasped.  
  
Angel made an open-handed gesture toward the apartment. "I wanted to see Giles, but he isn't home. Why are you here?"  
  
Cordelia regarded him through wary eyes. "Sorry, but the last time I saw you you were using my boyfriend's arm for kindling. I'm not really in the 'trusting you' camp just yet."  
  
Angel glanced away. "That wasn't me."  
  
"Oh, right, technically it was one of your minions. Okay, the last time I actually saw you was when you were threatening to tear out Xander's throat on your way to kill Buffy in her hospital bed."  
  
"No, I meant... it wasn't me. It was... him. Angelus."  
  
Cordelia held up a hand. "See, here's the problem. You look alike."  
  
Angel stared at her. "If I was still Angelus, would I be standing here talking to you or would I be eating your still-beating heart?"  
  
Cordelia grimaced in disgust. "There's no need to get graphic. Yuck."  
  
"So why were you looking for Giles?"  
  
Cordelia looked at him for a long second. "Buffy needs help. Trick got that girl, Josie. Buffy went after him."  
  
Angel stiffened. "That's bad. Any idea where they were going?"  
  
Cordelia shook her head. "None."  
  
Angel nodded to himself. "I might have an idea. Can you drive me?"  
  
Cordelia pulled away. "I'm not inviting you into my car again."  
  
"Okay, then give me the keys."  
  
Cordelia's eyes widened. "Oh, sure. No way." She stepped around him and spoke over her shoulder. "Come on. Just get this straight. This is not an invitation. The minute you step out of the car again, you are not welcome. Get it?"  
  
***  
  
It was too easy. Buffy knew that. The trail had been too visible, the path to this old factory too straight. Either they wanted her to find them or they weren't thinking about her. Didn't matter. If someone was in danger, she had to help.  
  
Now she stood in front of a steel door, the door to what was once a supply room. She took a deep breath and pushed it open, stepping back quickly. No vampires rushed out at her. Good sign. She counted to three, then lunged through the door, going in low and rolling, then popping up. She caught her breath as her battered ribs protested.  
  
There were no vampires, but a simple wooden chair sat at the far end of the room. A figure was chained to the chair. The head hung down, hair over the face. Buffy took a quick look around, then raced toward it. She knelt by the chair and touched an arm. Josie raised her head. Buffy gasped.  
  
Josie's left eye was swollen shut, or gone, Buffy couldn't tell which. It was impossible to see where all the blood was coming from, but her nose had contributed its fair share when it was broken. Her face was the color of liver and eggplant. Her lips were split, and it looked like she was bleeding from the ears. A wet wheezing came from her lungs; one was either punctured or collapsed. Three fingers on the hand Buffy could see were broken.  
  
"Josie?" Buffy whispered. The other girl raised her head, blinking her one functioning, albeit blood-filled, eye and trying to focus on Buffy. An indistinct groan escaped her; Buffy realized she was trying to say something.  
  
"Shhh," the Slayer said, looking at the chains, trying to figure out a way to undo them. "We've got to get you out of here."  
  
Josie tried to speak again, and this time Buffy could understand her slurred mumble. "You shouldn't have come."  
  
"Now that's what I call a Christmas sale-two for the price of one." Buffy whirled. Trick stood inside the door, smirking. Buffy noticed the souvenirs Cordelia had given him; a couple of fairly deep gouges over his left eye. The other vampires filed in behind him and began to fan out. Trick shook his head. "You lost your head, and came to save her without the help of any of your little friends. Now, it's going to cost you."  
  
Buffy stepped away from the chair, taking out a stake. "I think you really deserve a piece of coal." She twirled the stake. "Or maybe you'll get wood."  
  
Trick grinned. "Oh, I've got wood already."  
  
Buffy rolled her eyes. "Brilliant single entendre."  
  
Trick bounced up on his toes, amused. "Oh, that's good. You've decided to be defiant. I'm glad. Begging would be so beneath you."  
  
Buffy lifted her chin. "I can kill anyone you throw at me, Trick."  
  
He looked delighted. "What's the matter? Odds a little long?"  
  
"Stop." Josie's voice was a painful croak.  
  
Trick ignored her. "I'm sure you can beat anyone, Slayer, but can you beat everyone?" He motioned, and the vamps began to advance on all sides. Buffy gripped her stake. Where was Angel? The vampires closed in. Buffy shifted her weight, getting ready to fight. That's when the iron cap slammed down on her skull. She moved her eyes, looking at Trick. His face was stone; all his attention focused on her. She felt her hand moving. She realized that it was opening, the fingers unfolding to drop the stake. She summoned all her will to resist, but it was fruitless. Horrified, Buffy watched the stake fall from her hand and bounce across the concrete floor.  
  
"That's enough. Stop it." Josie again, but her voice sounded different. Buffy felt the iron cap shift.  
  
Trick lifted his gaze over Buffy's head. "Will you kindly shut the f--" His voice died. The other vamps faltered. The iron cap lifted. Buffy staggered, caught herself, and risked a glance behind her.  
  
Josie stood up. She didn't unlock the chains. She didn't break them. She just stood up, and the chains stayed on the chair. Josie raised her hand to point at the vampires, a hand with all its fingers intact. Buffy noticed the swelling in her left eye was diminishing, and her nose had lost it smashed and pulpy look. Looking through a curtain of hair, Josie pointed at Trick "Go... away... now," she said. "I'll let you walk."  
  
Trick looked at them the way a botanist might look at two very interesting plants. Josie took two halting steps forward, stopping just behind Buffy. The vamps formed a large half-circle around them. One of the vamps, a hungry look on his face, began to edge toward them.  
  
"Last chance," Josie said. "Keep him back."  
  
Trick ran his tongue over his teeth. "Oh, I don't think I'm able to do that."  
  
The vampire charged. Buffy went to a knee, grabbing for the stake. Josie raised her hand, palm out in a 'stop' gesture. The vamp froze in mid-stride, hanging in the air. Josie flicked her wrist, almost like a backhand slap. The vampire shimmered, then disappeared. It was like watching a filmed explosion in reverse. The demon was sucked into himself and then there was nothing where he had been.  
  
The rest of the vampires froze. Josie's eyes swept over them. "Anybody else want a taste?" she asked. "I'll do it again if any of you are here in five seconds." The undead bolted for the door. In the span of a few heartbeats, the room was empty, except for Trick, Buffy, and Josie. He looked at the two girls, surveying them with a cool expression. They looked back. Buffy felt numb.  
  
"Well," Trick said, "discretion being the better part of stupidity..." He took a quick step backward and disappeared through the door.  
  
Josie blew out a long, steady breath. Buffy lowered her stake and turned toward the other girl. They both heard the sound of running feet and whirled toward the door. Angel raced into the room, skidding to a confused stop. Josie raised her arms. Buffy grabbed her around the torso, putting her own body between Josie and Angel.  
  
"Whoa!" she yelled. "He's the cavalry." She looked over her shoulder at him. "A little late, but still the cavalry." She felt Josie relax; Buffy released her and stepped back.  
  
Josie's injuries were gone. The dried blood still stained her clothing. She raked a hand through her hair, pushing it off her face. "I know who he is," she said.  
  
"What happened?" Angel said.  
  
"That's what I'd like to know," Buffy growled as she grabbed a double handful of Josie's coat. "What the hell was that?"  
  
Josie said nothing, just gave a little shake of her head. Buffy spun twice, building momentum, and slammed Josie into the wall. Angel started forward, hand raised. "Buffy," he said. It sounded like a warning.  
  
"Who are you?" Buffy hissed into Josie's face. No reply. "Okay. Your call." Buffy lifted Josie away from the wall, as easily as she might lift a bundle of sticks, and slammed her against the concrete blocks again. "Feel like talking now?"  
  
"No," Josie said. "And that's enough." She grabbed Buffy's wrists. A pale silver-blue glow enveloped the area where their flesh touched. It looked like a static spark, but it felt like Buffy had grabbed a high-voltage line. It wasn't just physical pain, either. Horror, shame, and fear poured into her as she twitched and shook. It seemed like the world was ending; she was hanging there for all eternity. When Josie released her, the Slayer staggered back and dropped to her knees. Angel rushed forward; falling to the ground, he threw his arms around her. Buffy didn't look at him, but stared at Josie.  
  
"What are you?" she whispered. Josie didn't reply, she just looked off to her right. With Angel's help, Buffy struggled to her feet. The emotional effects of whatever Josie had done were fading, and a towering rage was replacing them.  
  
"What are you?" Buffy asked again, her voice harsh. "What the hell's going on?"  
  
Josie shot her a rueful look. "Hell has nothing to do with it."  
  
Buffy glared at the other girl through narrowed eyes. "Could you have killed them all?" Buffy demanded. "Could you?"  
  
Something snapped in Josie. "Is that what you think I should do? Is it, Buffy? Eliminate all evil?"  
  
Buffy rose to the bait. "Yeah, I think that would be a pretty good thing."  
  
"Oh, gee, then, let's see, where do I start? How about..." Josie raised her hand toward Angel, and Angel's reaction scared Buffy more than any vampire or demon. He recoiled, his face a mask of terror, not just frightened, but mortally horrified of what was about to happen.  
  
"No!" Buffy screamed.  
  
"Oh, so not Angel. But isn't there evil in him?" Buffy didn't reply. Josie continued. "Then, how about your friend Giles? Didn't he once help unleash a terrible demon? How about Xander? Is he blameless?" She stepped closer to Buffy, locking eyes with her. "What about you, Slayer? Ready to face judgement?"  
  
Their eyes locked for what seemed an eternity before Buffy looked away. Josie stepped back. "See, it's not that easy. Once you start down that road, you can't stop. You can't pick and choose. You eliminate it."  
  
"So I'm as evil as Trick?"  
  
"Of course not," Josie demurred. "But you're human. Your fate is still up in the air. Good and evil both exist in you."  
  
Buffy rolled her eyes. "Oh, so the best you can do is another lame 'you can't have evil without good and vice versa' riff? Do better, 'cause I'm sick of that one."  
  
Josie snorted. "Of course you can have good without evil, and evil without good. It just takes a long time to get them sorted out and as humans exist now, it's all mixed up so close together, like fudge ripple."  
  
"Fudge ripple?"  
  
"Sue me. First metaphor that came to mind. The point is, I can't grant pardons. It's not in my job description."  
  
"Really?" Buffy raised her chin, defiance creeping back into her stance. "What is in your job description? That little magic trick you just showed us?"  
  
Josie shrugged. "I'll probably be able to justify it under the 'extreme measures' clause, but I'll still be written up. As for my job, it's my job to observe. To wander the world and report."  
  
"Report to who?" Buffy asked.  
  
"To my superiors." Josie waved a hand. "Don't ask me to explain it all to you. I can't. I only know my little part."  
  
"Any words of wisdom that don't involve ice cream?" Buffy's bitterness turned her voice into a snarl. "I've noticed that we fight and fight and fight, and it doesn't get any better. Then you, whatever you are, come down here to stand on the sidelines and watch." Josie shook her head at Buffy's pugnacious tone.  
  
"You think you're fighting the whole war? Please." The dark-haired girl chuckled. "You're vital, but you couldn't begin to understand what I see, and I can only see a little bit of what's happening. Billions of people making choices every day, every choice affecting every other choice, across thousands of years."  
  
"Big talk. I still don't see you getting your hands dirty fighting."  
  
Josie raised her hands in frustration. "Should I take it on myself to impose order on the world? If I did that, what choice do you have?" She dropped her hands, shook her head. "Good must always be chosen freely. It can't be coerced. I've seen what happens when you try that."  
  
Tears of anger and frustration welled up in Buffy's eyes. "Then what good are you?"  
  
Josie looked down at the floor, then back up at Buffy. "How about this?" She moved forward and grabbed the Slayer in a quick, awkward embrace. Buffy felt that electric tingle again, but this time was different. She felt warm and loved and safe. Bone-deep fatigue was replaced by energy. Her aching ribs stopped protesting.  
  
Josie released her and stepped back. "Oh, one other thing," she said. "Just so you don't quit. We'll win."  
  
"Yeah, well, can you give me a date on that? I'd like to put it in the old cosmic Day-Runner."  
  
Josie grimaced with regret. "Sorry. I don't know. It's not my job. Not in the loop on that decision. Now, if you'll excuse me, it's time for me to go."  
  
"Wait," Buffy called. Josie stopped and turned. "What's your real name?" Buffy asked.  
  
Josie shook her head. "You couldn't understand it, even if I told you."  
  
"Try me. You owe me that much."  
  
Josie grinned, a very warm, maternal smile, and opened her mouth, but no words came out. What poured forth wasn't like any music Buffy had heard on earth, but it was melodious and pure, sound without syllables, only pitch and tone and melody. It rang and sang and chimed in that concrete-block room, and Buffy felt her heart lift and swell until she thought she would choke.  
  
And then it was over. Josie said, "That's my name." She walked over to Angel and placed a hand on his arm. He jumped slightly when she touched him. "Don't be so afraid. You're probably not here by accident." Her eyes twinkled. She jerked her head over her shoulder, indicating Buffy. "You guys do make a cute couple." She winked and was gone. Buffy stood there, tears running down her cheeks.  
  
"What was that?" she asked Angel.  
  
"That," he said, voice catching, "was the music of the spheres." 


	8. chapter 8

Faith vaulted the fence with ease and walked across the gravel, her boots crunching. She wasn't paying much attention so she didn't notice the girl waiting there until it was too late to slip away unseen. "Shit," she murmured under her breath. She squared her shoulders and went up to the tracks.  
  
"How's it going?" the girl asked.  
  
Faith said nothing. If she was quiet the girl might get bugged and leave. It didn't work. The girl seemed perfectly comfortable to stand there in silence all night. Faith shifted her weight, put her hands in her pockets, took them back out.  
  
"What are you doing here?" she asked.  
  
The girl looked at her. "I'm leaving town. I think I'll catch the next one." She extended a hand toward Faith. "Wanna come?"  
  
Faith looked at the hand, then back to the girl's face. Her face was unreadable. The dark Slayer turned away and began to walk back the way she had come. At the edge of the right-of-way she glanced back. The girl stood by the tracks, her narrow frame looking forlorn.  
  
***   
  
"...and so, as Tiny Tim observed, 'God bless us, everyone.'" Giles closed the book and thunderous applause rose from the audience. He took a deep bow and stepped back as the curtain closed.  
  
After accepting congratulations from everyone in the show and stowing his dressing gown in its garment bag, he went out into the auditorium. People were still milling about. Xander, Cordelia, Oz and Willow were standing in the aisle, waiting for him.  
  
"Hey, about time that British drama-queen thing came in handy," Xander observed. "That really didn't suck."  
  
"Thank you. A man could ask for no higher praise." Giles' voice was dry.  
  
"Oh, Giles, that was wonderful." Willow's enthusiasm caused her to bounce up and down. "You were so good."  
  
"Yes, yes, well, thank you," Giles murmured, accepting a brief hug. Oz offered a brief nod, which the Watcher interpreted as approval. He looked at Willow, a question in his eyes. Willow shook her head.  
  
"She's not here." The redhead glanced down at her feet. Giles shrugged and tried to smile.  
  
"Okay," Cordelia said. "I sat through this whole thing. That means that you're obligated to come to the pageant tomorrow night."  
  
Xander leaned in close to her. "Uh, Cor, I thought you didn't really want us to come."  
  
She looked annoyed. "We need a full house. Just don't embarrass me."  
  
"Gee, whut makes yew thank Ah'd dew tha-yut?" Xander asked in his best Cletus-the-Slack-Jawed-Yokel voice. Cordelia glared at him.  
  
"I was hoping she would be here," Giles said.  
  
Willow patted him on the arm. "We all were."  
  
***  
  
Buffy walked, putting one foot in front of the other with no purpose other than movement. Christmas Eve. No vampires. Maybe the craziness of the last ten days was abating.  
  
Tomorrow was the big day. Her mom was actually cooking Christmas dinner. What the two of them would do with a twelve-pound turkey was a question too mind-boggling to contemplate.  
  
"You're out late." She jumped, turning toward the sound of the voice, assuming a fighting stance out of reflex. When she saw who it was, she relaxed.  
  
"I'm surprised you're out at all. Y'know, this time of year and all."  
  
"Yeah." Angel stepped out of the shadows. "I'm a little conflicted."  
  
"The whole demon slash soul thing."  
  
"Yeah." After a long pause, Angel said, "You going anywhere in particular?"  
  
Buffy shook her head. "No. Just wanted out of the house. Mom's overflowing with Christmas cheer."  
  
Angel tried hard to be casual. "Did you see Giles do 'A Christmas Carol'?"  
  
She shook her head. "No." Buffy shook her head. "I hate that story. It's so sickly sweet, like everything else about Christmas."  
  
Angel stared into her eyes. "If you think about it," he said, "it's not that sweet. The truth never is. It just gets sugar-coated in the way people tell it." He thrust his hands in the pockets of his coat and looked up at the stars. "We need to talk."  
  
Buffy closed her eyes. "Angel, it was a moment of weakness. I was stressed, I reverted back to habit, it--"  
  
"It's time to stop pretending."  
  
"Pretending about what?"  
  
Angel looked into her eyes. "Tell me it didn't feel right to you." He stared at her until she looked away. "It felt right to me, too. That's the problem. It opened a door we both want to keep closed."  
  
Buffy's eyes were red-rimmed. She sniffled. "I'm going to play dumb right here about this door you're talking about."  
  
"Then I'll do the heavy lifting." He sat down on the curb and stared at his clasped hands. "Do you remember what I said about remembering you when I was... in that place?"  
  
"Yes," she whispered. She felt the warmth of a tear slip down her cheek.  
  
"One thing that couldn't be burned out was what I feel for you. I love you, Buffy. I've tried to deny it, I've even tried to use what happened as an excuse, a reason to say I couldn't feel anything for you, but that's a lie. In some weird way, knowing that you did the hard thing that had to be done makes me love you even more."  
  
"You... You love me even more because I sent you to Hell?" Buffy swallowed. It felt like a Rubik's Cube was lodged in her esophagus. "What sort of sick guilt trip is this?"  
  
"It's not guilt. You're not guilty of anything." Angel looked at her. "You'll do the right thing, even when it costs you. That's part of why I love you." He stood up. "Now, tell me to my face that you don't love me."  
  
"I... I don't..." She bit her lip to keep it from quivering but it was no good. Her entire body began to shake. Her knees started to buckle but he was there to wrap his arms around her and hold her up. "I don't want to love you," she whispered.  
  
"I know," he said. "It's too dangerous."  
  
"Too dangerous," she repeated. They stood there until her legs felt steady. It might have been five minutes, it might have been five hours. Time suspended itself during their embrace. Finally she stepped back. "So what do we do?" she said, wiping her nose on the sleeve of her coat.  
  
"We acknowledge it. We remember it so that we don't act on it." Angel closed his eyes. "Buffy, we can't be together. There's no sense staying within arm's reach when we can't touch each other. It's beyond tempting fate."  
  
She nodded. He reached out but she took a step away from him. "We might as well start now," she said in a shaky voice.  
  
He nodded. "You should know that I'm thinking about leaving Sunnydale."  
  
Her eyes reflected the glittering light of the stars. "I see." She tucked her coat in around her chin. "Listen, I've got to go. I, uh, I suddenly need to see some people."  
  
He stood and watched her walk away into the night, her slender frame growing smaller and smaller until his searching eye could no longer see her.  
  
***  
  
The last notes of "Angels We Have Heard On High" rang out over the auditorium and faded. The spotlight held for a moment on the final arrangement of the holy family, the shepherds and the magi, then clicked off, plunging the audience into darkness. Applause filled the chamber as the lights came up.  
  
"Wow," Willow said, clapping furiously. "That was just so... so... exotic!"  
  
Xander smiled at her. "Will, you are just a great big tub o' nutty, did you know that?"  
  
Giles stood with his hands in his pockets, looking very calm. "It was rather pleasant, wasn't it?"  
  
Xander made herding motions with his hands. "We should probably head for the lobby. Cordelia will meet us there."  
  
"It's not called the lobby in a church, is it?" Willow asked.  
  
Xander's eyes widened. "How would I know? They've probably got some churchy word for it, but I bet it still means lobby."  
  
Oz nodded toward the back of the church. "Hey, check it out." They looked and saw a petite figure sitting in the last pew. She raised a hand and gave a little wave. They hurried down the aisle as she slipped out of her seat to meet them. The Slayer looked pale and drawn as they approached.  
  
"You came," Willow exclaimed, grabbing her in a hug. "I thought you weren't coming."  
  
"Yeah, Will, I came," Buffy said, untangling herself from the embrace. "You know, you were all coming, and how often do we get to see Cordelia look this goofy?"  
  
Xander looked knowing. "There is a high goofy factor."  
  
Oz studied Buffy's face as the group made their way to the foyer. "So, did you enjoy?"  
  
Buffy looked at him for a minute, then smiled. "Yeah. I kinda did."  
  
Cordelia slipped through the departing crowd, still wearing her angel costume. She looked at Buffy. "You said you weren't coming." Her tone was accusatory.  
  
Buffy looked at her. "Gee, Cordy, not very angelic."  
  
"Maybe we should take the holiday cheer out into the parking lot while Cordelia changes," Oz suggested.  
  
"Excellent idea," Giles seconded. They straggled through the doors and out onto the asphalt. They stood there in the night air, a loose confederation of friends surrounded by a departing tide of parishioners.  
  
"So," Willow said, "is Josie gone?"  
  
Giles looked up at the stars. "Yes, I suppose she is."  
  
"Who is what?" Cordelia demanded as she joined them.  
  
"Josie. Gone." Willow explained as briefly as she could.  
  
"Thank God," Cordelia said, straightening the collar on her coat. "She hung around like Banquo's ghost. What?" she asked of the staring faces around her. "We spend half our lives in the library. I get bored. I read." She was finally satisfied with her coat. "I'm glad. I'm tired of creepy stuff happening when she's around." She realized that she was catching dubious looks again. "Okay, creepier stuff. And don't pretend you didn't think the same thing."  
  
"Hey," Buffy said, "I'm feeling the need to be surrounded by friends. How's about we all invade the Summers' home? I'm pretty sure we've got all the fixings for hot chocolate."  
  
"That would be cocoa and milk," Oz observed.  
  
"Do you have A Charlie Brown Christmas on video?" Willow asked. "Because I haven't seen it yet this year."  
  
Buffy sighed, throwing her arm around her best friend. "Will, I think my mom has every Christmas special, movie, and commercial on tape. C'mon."  
  
They left the theater, the air as cool as it got in Sunnydale. As they crossed the parking lot, Xander looked at his watch. "Hey, it's after midnight. That means it's Christmas. Merry Christmas."  
  
They continued across the parking lot, laughing and wishing each other well. If they had looked back, they might have seen a solitary figure, a girl in a too-large overcoat, who raised a hand to their departing figures, then turned and was gone.  
  
****  
  
End of "What Child Is This?" 


End file.
